To My Heart's Other Side, An Epitaph
by In a Quandary
Summary: What if Roxas runs into Xion before she enters the Twilight Town mansion on Day 356? And what if she gives him all the missing information that he so desperately seeks? How will he react once he learns the awful truth of their situation – and the ultimate price they must pay? An alternate ending to 358/2 Days, in which Roxas has more agency in deciding his fate.
1. Gate to Oblivion

**Title**: To My Heart's Other Side, An Epitaph

**Rating**: T

**Genre**: Drama/Tragedy

**Pairing(s)**: Roxas/Xion, Axel & Roxas & Xion

**Tags**: Major character death, implied/referenced suicide, alternate universe – canon divergence, existential angst, sort-of compliant with the start of KH2

**Characters **(in order of prominence): Roxas, Xion, Axel, Riku, Naminé, DiZ

**Plot summary**:

What if Roxas runs into Xion before she enters the Twilight Town mansion on Day 356? And what if she gives him all the missing information that he so desperately seeks? How will he react once he learns the awful truth of their situation – and the ultimate price they must pay?

An alternate ending to _358/2 Days_, in which Roxas has more agency in deciding his fate.

**A/N**: With the recent release of KH3, I've decided to revisit the series. _358/2 Days_ is my favourite instalment, and Roxas and Xion are my favourite characters. Going through their story was like taking a giant wrecking ball to the heart. As much as they deserve a happy ending, I believe DDD and KH3 did them (and numerous other characters, Axel included) a serious injustice by undoing their deaths. A tragedy loses all of its impact if its high stakes do not actually exist.

Ten years on, I still wonder how things would've unfolded if Roxas hadn't been forced to fight Xion and then Riku, resulting in him going through the ignominy that is the fake Twilight Town. What if he were relieved of his ignorance instead? Would he return to Sora of his own volition, as Riku had guessed? Hence this story was born, though I'm probably a decade late in penning it.

There are a number of story concepts/character interactions that don't seem to have received adequate attention (either in canon or fanfiction), so I'll be addressing them here. They include:

-The moral dilemma in sacrificing Xion and Roxas to wake Sora, and Roxas confronting the various involved parties about it, Riku in particular

-A final reconciliation between Roxas, Xion and Axel

-Roxas taking steps to forcibly remember Xion

Roxas' relationship with Xion plays a prominent role in this story. _Days_ portrays them as best friends with subtle romantic overtones, which mirrors the canonical Sora/Kairi. However, they're too pure and inexperienced – and in Roxas' case, lacking enough self-awareness – to go down the romantic route proper. I'm aiming to stay as faithful to this portrayal as possible, but my inclination for this pairing shows, so I've tagged it accordingly.

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**1\. **_**Gate to Oblivion**_

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Running away from the Organisation is more dreary than Roxas might have anticipated.

Not a day had passed since he made his escape, and already he's unnerved by the lack of pursuers. After emerging victorious from his clash with Saïx, Roxas hadn't gotten into any more major fights. There were no lesser Nobodies sent after him, not even a horde of Dusks hot on his heels.

It's as though the Organisation doesn't care he's on the loose.

Maybe that's too optimistic a thought. Maybe their silence is just the deceptive calm before the storm. They're probably still focussed on retrieving Xion, their _functioning_ Keyblade wielder. What reason would they have to prioritise _him_, the useless castaway who's been struggling harder and harder to complete his missions?

Whatever. Roxas is _done_ with the Organisation. Never again will he obey their orders, be a mindless tool for some grand scheme that he doesn't even know anything about. If he isn't important enough to warrant their immediate attention, all the better for him. He can certainly use some breathing space to think things through. While by no means unwelcome, this newfound ability to make decisions for himself isn't one he's used to.

That's a bit of a understatement, really. Truth be told, it's left him with the distinct feeling that he's in over his head.

Because he doesn't know where to go, or what to do.

When Roxas chose to desert the Organisation, he hadn't come up a plan of any description, just followed the overwhelming urge to _get out_. Fighting his way forward was simple; he mercilessly cut down anything that stood in his path. Not even Axel's intervention slowed down his relentless march. With distrust firmly wedged between them, the older Nobody's warnings rung hollow in Roxas' ears.

So he left his former best friend behind, and proceeded to the threshold of Fragment Crossing. Here, he cast a final backward glance—

_(taking in the view of ghostly spires silhouetted against the heart-shaped moon)_

—and hesitated.

Though cold and sterile and rather uninviting, the Castle That Never Was had been his home. It was a refuge of sorts, somewhere to rest when he was tired, and to fill his belly when he was hungry. It was also the gathering place of not-quite-people like himself, people with whom he could mingle and feel a sense of kinship. Within its colourless walls, he was given purpose and an identity, however mysterious and obfuscated.

Bereft of all that, Roxas had _nothing_.

Turning back wasn't an option, however. His mind was – _still is_ – full of questions without answers. Answers which nobody at the castle had seen fit to give him.

In the end, he opened a corridor of darkness to Twilight Town. When in doubt, Roxas would return to the land of his birth. (How he cobbled together enough self-awareness to remember his first day, he'll never know.) It's quite the contrast to the World That Never Was, with picturesque brick terraces and paved streets bathed in the warmth of the perpetual sunset. Overlooking the town is the iconic clock tower, the place where he wiled away countless afternoons eating ice-cream with his friends.

This time, Roxas' visit wouldn't involve anything quite so pleasant. Survival was his current goal, and he needed somewhere to camp until he could figure out his next move.

Though he knew very little about how to live on his own, Roxas understood the basic necessities. Eat, drink, find shelter, sleep. And beat off the intrepid Heartless that like to use his Keyblade as a homing beacon. In this case, his first course of action was to buy himself a proper meal.

Unfortunately, sea salt ice-cream would _not_ do. He'd endured plenty of lectures from various Organisation members – not Axel or Demyx – on its nutritional merits, which is to say, _none_.

For that purpose, he brought along whatever munny he could shove into his pockets. With careful rationing, it would carry him through a few weeks. The remaining pocket space was taken up by his diary – his only possession with personal value – and a bunch of curatives stocked up from the Organisation moogle merchant, out-of-date Elixirs excepted.

The noodle bar cashier gave him a weird look when he stepped up to the counter. And why wouldn't she? He's a strange boy in a strange black coat. To his relief, she didn't denyt him service. As soon as the box of takeaway changed hands, Roxas slinked off to some shadowy, discreet corner, where he stepped through a dark corridor to the top of the clock tower. Materialising one of those in plain sight wouldn't help him keep a low profile, after all.

His body moved of its own accord, folding him into his usual seat. There were only two people who would think to look for him here, and neither of them were coming for him. Glancing at the empty spaces on his left and right only served to reinforce that fact.

In an effort to stave off the hollow ache in his chest, Roxas turned his attention to his takeaway. But every mouthful tasted like ashes.

Without the Organisation – without his friends – he was lost. A confused runaway wandering one foreign neighbourhood among many. _Alone_.

After a few minutes of mechanically shoving food down his throat, Roxas found himself unable to bear it any longer. Pushing away the remains of his meal, he shuffled inside and slumped against the nearest wall, unseeing eyes fixed on the ceiling. Eventually, exhaustion claimed him, putting an end to his aimless, morose thoughts.

Then the next day arrived as the tower bells struck eight o' clock. Roxas startled into full wakefulness, his joints numb and a painful crick in his neck.

He still hadn't worked out what to do.

As a non-native in conspicuous non-native clothes, wandering around in broad daylight would draw too much attention. It occurred to him to change his outfit, but he ultimately ruled out that idea. Shopping wasn't a luxury he could afford. Besides, in the event that he needed to make a hasty exit, the Organisation coat would grant him safe passage through the darkness.

So he made his way to the woods. It's unlikely that anyone would bother him here; the threat of lurking Heartless tended to keep out the sensible townsfolk. Plopping down on a fallen log, Roxas let his gaze settle on a patch of sun-dappled undergrowth.

And that's how he's come to his current, dreary state of affairs.

He isn't sure how long he's sat there for, weighing the pros and cons of taking refuge in the various worlds he's visited, or brainstorming (unsuccessfully) of ways he might find out more about this all-important 'Sora'. Every so often, his musings would be interrupted by a handful of encroaching Shadows. However, the ensuing battle is never long enough – or _intense_ enough – to siphon away his ever-building frustration.

The fifth time he is shaken out of his thoughts, Roxas hears the sound of twigs crunching underfoot.

Since they are comprised of pure darkness, Shadows cannot make audible footsteps. Has something larger and more dangerous appeared, perhaps a pursuer from the Organisation? Or is it one of the more foolhardy civilians, out here on some stupid dare or misadventure?

Snapping wary eyes back and forth, Roxas spots movement at the edge of the forest. There's a human-shaped figure picking their way through the underbrush. Someone about the same size and height as himself, wrapped in a telltale black coat—

"Xion?" he calls out without thinking.

The figure halts in its tracks, turning towards his voice.

Rising to his feet, Roxas takes a few tentative steps in its – _her –_ direction. "Xion, it _is_ you, isn't it?"

The figure remains silent, but he can sense her unseen gaze on him. Taking this as a positive sign, Roxas removes his hood and makes a steady, if cautious approach. A few metres short of reaching her, he stops, forestalled by her raised palm.

"Roxas." Her voice, the way she pronounces his name – soft and mellow and wonderfully _familiar_ – leaves no doubt as to who she might be. "I'm not going back to the Organisation."

"That's fine by me," he replies, lapsing into the easy manner that he normally has around his second best friend, "'cause I'm not going back either. I've run away, too."

"You have?"

His affirming nod must have satisfied her, for Xion throws off her hood. Roxas feels his chest tighten in response; never have her choppy black bangs and indigo eyes been a more welcome sight. While he's always liked looking upon her face – admiring how the light would catch on her pretty, delicate features – doing so now fills him with immeasurable relief. Here she is, a friendly presence in the midst of so much uncertainty.

Overtaken by a sudden impulse to make sure she is real, Roxas closes the remaining gap between them, capturing her wrists. Her warmth and solidarity seeps through the fabric of their gloves, grounding him.

"Xion, I'm so glad you're here," he declares, his words nothing but heartfelt.

"I'm glad to see you too, Roxas." Her reply is no less heartfelt, but he can also hear sadness in it.

"Since we're both in the same situation, how 'bout we run away together, you and me?" he offers, giving her wrists a gentle squeeze.

Instead of providing the reassurance he's aiming for, this only seems to make her sadder. "As much as I'd like to, I can't come with you," Xion confesses, her eyes deep pools that reflect the shaded gloom around them.

"Why not?"

"There's something I must do, and I can only do it alone." She averts her gaze. "I'm sorry, Roxas."

He feels his lips pinch together in an unhappy line. "That's not telling me anything."

"If I tell you about it," she explains, still not looking at him, "you'd try to stop me."

Roxas' frown deepens; _that_ sounds too much like an echo of Axel's various excuses. "So it's something I won't like to hear; I get that. But don't I have a right to know, as your friend?"

Her expression is a mix of guilt and pleading when she turns back to face him. "Roxas—"

"Does it have something to do with you being a—" he barrels onward, forcing out the hated word, "—a _puppet_?"

There is a prolonged pause before she answers. "Yes."

"Then explain to me _why_. Please, Xion," he implores, shaking her wrists. "I've been kept in the dark for so long. I just wanna know what's going on."

She studies his face for another prolonged moment. "I have to go back to where I belong."

"Where _do_ you belong?"

"With Sora."

That omnipresent name again. "Xemnas says he's the connection between us. But who _is_ Sora?"

Xion's eyes widen at his question, as though it's caught her by surprise. "He's the person I was before. The person _you_ were before."

With a resounding mental click, the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. He can scarcely believe it. The answer had been right under his nose all this time—! "You mean, I'm his _Nobody_?"

"I honestly thought you already knew that," she confirms, eyes still wide.

Roxas lets out a humourless chuckle. "No, it's news to me," he says with no small amount of bitterness. "No one bothered to tell me, not even Axel. Hell, he even made a point of keeping it a _secret_."

Xion casts her eyes downward. "I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, dismissing her apology. "That's on _him_, not you."

"I kept my fair share of secrets from you, too," she persists, stubbornly contrite.

"But you're giving me the answers now, aren't you?"

There's resignation in the way Xion dips her head, but sincerity too. Then she reciprocates his gesture, her fingers coiling around his wrists.

"Roxas, please don't be angry with Axel," she pleads, locking her eyes with his. "He was only trying to protect us."

"By holding back the truth?" he counters, incredulous. "How's that's supposed to protect us? What's wrong with telling me that I'm Sora's Nobody?"

"I'm afraid that's only… the beginning of the story." Her words are quiet, troubled.

"Will you tell me the rest of it, then?"

In response, Xion untangles their intertwined wrists, letting them fall back to their respective sides. It's as though she's taking some precautionary step by putting distance between them. Already, Roxas mourns the loss of her touch.

"As I said before, I have to go back to Sora. That's because some of his memories have found their way inside me. But they rightfully belong to him, so I have to give them back. He's been sleeping for a long time, and he needs those memories in order to wake up."

Bringing up a fist and resting his chin against it, Roxas ruminates on this new information for a minute or so. It doesn't line up with what he knows. A Nobody is created when a strong-willed person turns into a Heartless, right? How then, is it possible for Sora – his past self – to co-exist with him _and_ Xion at the same time?

Why does he have a sneaking suspicion that there are complicated, outside-the-norm mechanics involved?

Whatever. Roxas might look into those another time. Right now, he has other, more pressing questions to ask, such as:

"Is it _that_ important to wake him up?

"_Yes_," Xion asserts, conviction in her tone. "He has many friends waiting for him. And I shouldn't be taking something that doesn't belong to me in the first place."

"I'm pretty sure the strange dreams I keep having are actually Sora's memories," Roxas points out. "If you have to give them back to him, won't _I_ have to do that, too?"

"In the end, yes."

"Do you know what will happen to us once we give them back?"

"You and Sora are two halves of the same person," she explains without hesitation. "You're the body he's left behind, just like he's the heart you're missing. When you two join together, you'll become whole."

This revelation makes it clear that there's something very _wrong_ with the big picture. "All this time, we've been collecting hearts to complete Kingdom Hearts," Roxas says slowly, his voice filled with combined wonder and incredulity, "and now you're saying I've never _needed_ it?"

Xion nods, a grim set to her mouth. "I don't know much about the Organisation's plans, but I'm sure of one thing: Kingdom Hearts _isn't_ the solution. You, me, even Axel – we've only ever been tools for Xemnas."

_Tools._ As he recalls their superior's dismissive account of the Replica Program, Roxas finds himself nodding in agreement. Though it's something he's worked out by the time he fled the Organisation, having Xion confirm that fact doesn't make it any less unpleasant.

"So you and I have always belonged with Sora," he muses aloud. "If I join with him, will I still be me?"

The look she gives him is apologetic. "That, I honestly don't know."

"And what will happen to _you_?" he prompts. Clueless as Roxas can often be, it hasn't escaped his notice that Xion has yet to divulge _her_ side of the answer.

Her shoulders droop, and a soft sigh escapes her. "I'm just a puppet, a copy. I'm not even meant to exist, so I'll…" she trails off, seemingly unable to continue.

"You'll disappear?" he finishes for her.

Xion doesn't reply, and Roxas knows that he's struck upon the correct answer. Not that it brings him any joy whatsoever. Is _this _the truth that Axel tried so hard to shield him from all along? That Xion has no salvation waiting for her, for the very nature of her existence is also her doom?

If so, he understands Axel's motives a bit better now. It's far too _painful_ a truth to bear.

Lunging forward, Roxas seizes her wrists again. "I can't let you do this, Xion."

She doesn't object to his less-than-gentle treatment, simply smiles a tired smile. "I knew you would say that. You know, Roxas, I'm grateful to be able to see you one last time. I wanted to say goodbye."

"_Goodbye_?" he repeats, shaking his head in utter, _frantic_ disbelief. "Xion, you can't expect me to just… let you go!"

"But it's _my_ choice to go away, Roxas."

He recoils from her, blindsided by her statement. It leaves him breathless and _hurt_, even more so than Lexeaus' full-force blow to the gut. "Why?" he cries, feeling hot moisture prickle at his eyelids. "Don't you wanna stay with me? Doesn't our friendship mean anything?"

There's a flash of something _fierce_ across Xion's face. "It means _everything_. I want to be with you – you and Axel, _forever_. But we can't be together," she finishes, her ferocity giving way to despair.

"Why not?"

Within her eyes is a sorrow so vast that Roxas fears he might drown in it. "You're _dying_, Roxas," Xion chokes out, "and I'm the one responsible. You must've noticed how you're becoming weaker and weaker lately, right? That's because I'm stealing your powers, just by existing. It's not something I can control. If I knew how, I'd give you back everything in an instant." She scrunches her eyes shut, and her lips peel back in an agonised snarl. "Forgive me, Roxas. I never meant to be a parasite."

So Xion is the cause of his deteriorating health. Somehow, learning about this doesn't trouble Roxas so much as her forced involvement. How _horrible_ would it feel to be in her place, knowing that she is sucking the life out of her best friend through no action of her own?

"That's not your fault, though!" he argues on her behalf, spreading his palms. "It's not like you're doing any of this on purpose!"

Xion's eyes snap back open, and he can see something _terrible_ within their indigo depths. "But it _is_ my fault," she corrects him with surprising vehemence, "otherwise we wouldn't be in this situation. Simply put, I don't deserve to exist. Every day that I choose to live is a _mistake_."

For the second time within the space of mere minutes, Roxas feels like he's been sucker-punched. Yet whatever hurt or disorientation he feels is swallowed up the urge to prove her wrong – even if he must defend her from _herself_.

Reaching forward to grasp Xion's hands once more, he exclaims, "Don't say that, Xion! It's _not_ true! You're _not_ a mistake!"

But despite all the fervour he put behind it, his protest might as well have gone unheard. Xion is gazing at him now, a melancholic curve to her lips.

"I'm just glad that I got to know you, to be your friend," she murmurs, her voice filled with warmth. "I'm glad for all the times we spent together, the three of us. Watching the sunset from the top of the clock tower, talking and laughing and eating ice-cream together… Those were the happiest days of my life."

Recognising her words for the farewell speech it is, Roxas crumples. "Xion…"

With gentle determination, she prises his hands from hers, setting them down by his sides. "I have to go now. I can't let the Organisation catch me. They'll turn me into their true puppet, and make me fight you again. I don't want to hurt you anymore, Roxas."

In a whirl of black fabric, Xion turns her back to Roxas and proceeds to move away.

_(away from him—) _

Desperation claws up from inside him, hardening into resolve. Rushing towards her departing form, Roxas seizes a handful of her sleeve. "Wait, Xion! I'm coming with you!"

Xion blinks at him from over her shoulder, eyes wide with astonishment. "Roxas, I'm going back to Sora. I've made up my mind."

"I know," he sighs, giving her sleeve a forlorn tug. Then his voice takes on a more insistent edge. "But I can't—I _won't_ let you go alone. If this is truly goodbye, I'm gonna stay with you for as long as I can, until… y'know, the end."

Xion responds by staring at him for several long seconds, so long that it leaves him in fear that she might refuse. But there's an over-bright gleam to her eyes, one indicative of unshed tears.

"Okay. Thank you, Roxas," she says, her voice wobbly and choked-up. "This means more to me than I can say."

"Are you sure this is the only way?" Roxas cannot help but try again, though he's already certain of her answer.

She nods solemnly. "It's what's best for everyone."

He doesn't agree – _cannot_ agree – but there's no point in saying that. Because Roxas _knows_ Xion. Underneath her quiet and reserved demeanour lies a will that cannot be shaken. So he changes the subject:

"How will you go back to Sora?"

"I need to find someone called Naminé," Xion replies. "She'll show me what I have to do next. I'm told she lives in the mansion up ahead."

Is she referring to the same mansion they've passed by on many a mission, but never bothered to investigate? "Let's go, then."

Silence blankets them as they make their way through the forest. Roxas cannot bring himself to start up conversation, and neither can Xion for that matter. Even if he manages to get words past the large, painful knot in his chest, what would he say? With Xion's demise – and potentially his own – around the literal corner, he finds himself an utter wreck. There are too many emotions churning inside him to name them all, and he has no means of relieving them.

Upon arriving at their destination, they are greeted by a massive, wrought-iron gate flanked by overgrown brick walls. Perhaps Roxas' mind is playing tricks on him, but the air feels charged, like the thrumming aftereffect of a Thunder spell. It makes the hairs on his arms stand on end, even through the insulating layer of his Organisation coat.

Xion is the first one to break the silence. "Can you feel it, too? That strange magic in the air?"

"Yeah," Roxas agrees, glad for the reprieve. "I've been too busy all the other times to notice, but it's definitely there."

"It's a ward to keep people out," Xion reveals, surprisingly knowledgeable about the matter. "And it makes the walls unclimbable," she adds, noting his shudder as he steps up to the aforementioned wall and presses an experimental hand against it. The resulting sensation is not unlike someone ramming a Blizzard spell down his spine, which is to say, most unpleasant.

The gate itself contains no such repelling enchantment, however. Roxas grabs a couple of the wrought-iron bars and yanks, using his (admittedly measly) weight for leverage. But nothing so much as budges.

"I guess we won't be opening this by force," he shrugs.

"Maybe it's set up like that," remarks Xion with a thoughtful frown, "so that only those with the right key can enter."

With a golden flash, her Keyblade materialises in her hand. She levels the weapon at the gate's oversized lock, and a beam of light shoots from the tip and enters the keyhole. There's a loud _click_ a moment later, followed by the gate swinging open with a rusty whine.

Giving a satisfied nod, Xion dismissing her Keyblade with a wave. Roxas watches the trail of fading golden motes, then walks up to her side. Eager to demonstrate his support – and seize whatever remaining opportunity they have to be together – he wraps his hand around her now-empty one. She doesn't object, even going as far as to give him a grateful squeeze. It occurs to him then, how small and frail her hand feels within his own.

She steps forward, and he matches her pace. As one, they enter the mansion grounds.


	2. Purgatory's Usher

**A/N**: I started a new KH2 game and made a save file in the White Room just so I could describe the mansion interior. Time to watch the ball of emotion that is Roxas get even more angry and upset…

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**2\. **_**Purgatory's Usher**_

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With a rumble of shifting wood, the mansion's double entrance doors give way, showing Roxas and Xion into a large, high-ceilinged foyer.

What might have once been an impressive-looking space had long since fallen into disrepair. Strewn across the dusty floor are the broken remains of several ornamental tables, and a pile of debris blocks up the door to the right. Cobwebs litter the antique furnishings that line the walls, including more than one tarnished suit of armour. In contrast, the twin stairwells that rise to the floor above appear to be in good condition. Between them lies a glass screen through which light enters, the sole source of illumination against the gloom.

Roxas finds his attention immediately drawn to this area. There's a tall, silhouetted figure leaning against a nearby winged unicorn stand. Like Xion and himself, this third person is also sporting an Organisation coat—

It's the imposter!

He opens his mouth to let out a cry of warning, but something else gives him pause. Without his hood, the imposter's youthful features and shaggy silver hair are plain for all to see. A strip of black cloth conceals his eyes, though for what reason Roxas is unable to discern.

There's something awfully _familiar_ about that guy—

Unbidden, memories assail him. He sees lips curled in an arrogant smirk, hears a voice shouting taunts of "giving up already?" Adrenaline and determination course though him as he raises his wooden sword to fend off his opponent, their frenetic movements scattering sand everywhere. Framing their mock battle is a backdrop of palm trees and ocean and blue sky, and his nose tingles with each inhalation of the salty breeze—

A name surfaces to the forefront of Roxas' mind, takes shape on his tongue. "Riku."

Xion turns towards him, eyes wide with curiosity. "You recognise him?"

"Yeah. From my—" he draws to a mental halt, correcting himself, "—from _Sora's_ memories."

This admission seems to intrigue Riku, for he shifts to face their direction. Roxas is certain he'd been watching them as soon as they'd stepped through the door, though.

"Xion," he calls out. There's a certain familiarity in the way he pronounces her name, and Roxas _dislikes_ it straightaway. Then Riku's gaze falls upon Roxas. The blindfold does nothing to hide the piercing scrutiny of his eyes, eyes Roxas _knows_ to be a brilliant shade of blue-green. "Roxas."

Feeling his pulse leap in anticipation, Roxas disentangles his hand from Xion's and makes to move forward. But Xion is already a step ahead, arm flung wide to forestall him. She gives him a small shake of her head, then begins approaching Riku. This, in turn, propels the silver-haired not-stranger to his feet, and they meet halfway across the room.

"Riku." There's also familiarity in the way Xion pronounces _his _name, and Roxas likes that even _less_. "Naminé is here, isn't she?

Riku nods. "She's waiting for you in the white room upstairs, the one furthest to your left." He gives Roxas a significant tilt of the head. "I wasn't expecting _him_ to tag along."

Oh, is Roxas' presence unwelcome, now? But the instinctive retort dies in his throat as Xion throws him a glance over her shoulder – a silent request not to interfere. "He offered to come with me, and I'm glad to have him at my side." She folds her hands together, expression fading into sombreness. "Especially now."

There appears to be sympathy in Riku's answering wince. "Of course. How much does he know about Sora?"

"Everything I know."

"Is he also here because…?" Riku trails off, something tentative in his voice. But Xion shakes her head.

"No, he can't quite feel Sora yet."

Riku's shoulders hunch ever so slightly, and his overlong fringe falls against his blindfold. "I see."

A strange silence follows, broken by the sound of Xion clearing her throat. "Well, I'll go meet Naminé now." Lifting her right hand, she rests it against Riku's opposite elbow. "Thank you, Riku. For being patient. For giving me time to reach this decision."

In a motion so gentle that it can be construed as tender, Riku removes her hand and encloses it between his own. "No, Xion," he murmurs, his words laden with feeling. "Thank _you_."

Witnessing this scene – undeniable proof that his best friend and enemy hold each other with some regard – infuriates Roxas unlike anything else. His anger, having steadily grown throughout their exchange, now soars to boiling point. What right does Riku have to touch Xion like _that_, as though he actually cares for her? And how _dare_ he express gratitude? It's nothing but a cruel joke, approving of her horrific choice to throw away her life—!

With jaw clenched and hands balled into fists, Roxas storms towards the duo. Seeing his approach, Riku breaks contact with Xion and steps away. Then he retreats further as Roxas interposes himself between them, expression wary.

"You're the one who convinced Xion to go back to Sora, right?" Roxas growls, glaring up at the older teenager's blindfold.

Riku meets his gaze without flinching. "Yeah."

"What have you been telling her this whole time?"

"The truth," he replies in a neutral, controlled tone. "Sora needs her in order to wake up. He needs _you_, too."

"Won't we just disappear if we go back to him?" Roxas insists, daring – and secretly _hoping_ – for Riku to contradict him.

But there's only discomfort on other guy's face. "You'll live on in Sora's heart. But you won't be yourself anymore."

Though Roxas had guessed this outcome from Xion's explanation, having it confirmed does nothing to alleviate the bitter crush of disappointment. Why had he allowed himself to be so foolish, entertaining the wish of something better?

"How's that any different to being gone?" he demands. When this is met with the expected silence, Roxas continues, "What about Xion? Will she just—" he finds himself choking on the word, "—_v-vanish_, like she's never existed?"

Riku responds with a heavy sigh, which speaks as much as the verbal affirmation itself.

"I know we have his memories," Roxas goes on, his voice climbing with each word as fury and distress clash in a painful cacophony inside him. "I know they don't belong to us, and we have to give them back in the end. But it's not like we took them on purpose! We didn't choose to be like this!" He thumps his fists against his thighs. "We didn't even choose to _exist_!"

Riku matches his emphatic tone with his own. "I _know_ that, Roxas."

"_I don't wanna lose Xion_!" The words escape him in an uncontrollable outburst, and tears squeeze out from the corners of his eyes and roll down his cheeks. He angrily wipes them away. "She's my best friend! I don't wanna lose _me_, either!"

The older teenager's lips are peeled back in a uneasy grimace, but he says nothing.

Taking a shuddering breath, Roxas asks in a steadier voice, "Is there no other way to wake Sora up?"

"Believe me, I don't like this anymore than you do."

This answer is so _unsatisfactory_ that it instantly shatters what little calm Roxas had managed to restore. "You don't _like_ this, huh?" he hisses through gritted teeth, his fingers bunching up the fabric of his coat. "Do you honestly give a damn about how we feel? What does throwing away two Nobodies matter, so long as you get your precious Sora back?"

"DiZ said that Nobodies can't feel—"

"Is that how you've justified it to yourself?" he interrupts, snarling. "That it's okay to wipe two people from existence because we supposedly can't feel?" Striding forward so that they are now bare inches apart, Roxas thrusts a belligerent chin up at his enemy. "The evidence is staring you right in the face! Does this look like I can't feel _any fucking_ _thing_ to you?"

To his surprise, Riku doesn't return his aggression. "It would've made everything easier if it _were_ true," the older male sighs, heaviness in his voice. "I believed it at first. But after watching you and Xion…" He hangs his head. "All I can say is that I'm sorry."

Backing off a couple of steps, Roxas looks away. There's something a little too _genuine_ about Riku's remorse. But it's far too little too late. "Sorry doesn't even begin to cut it."

"Roxas," Riku persists, "I won't demean you or her by claiming an apology is enough. I know you two have got the short end of the shortest stick. But I'm trying to give you a choice here, rather than taking it by force."

Snapping his head back up to meet Riku's gaze, Roxas bares his teeth rebelliously. "What if I say no?"

The other guy's lips twist in a pitying manner. "What will you do instead? Go back to the Organisation? You know you're no more than a tool to them."

"Just like I am to _you_," Roxas spits out. "I can... run away." Returning to his best friend's side, he loops a possessive arm around her elbow. "Take Xion with me."

But the look she gives him isn't one of agreement – quite the contrary, in fact. "I won't go with you, Roxas," Xion states, the first time she's spoken since his heated conversation with Riku began. "I've already told you that."

Her words lance through him with the severity of a mortal blow. Dropping her arm as though it had suddenly turned into a live wire, Roxas staggers back and clutches at his chest – the space his heart would be if he had one. "Xion…"

She also turns away from him, apology radiating from her slumped shoulders and downcast eyes. For the next few seconds, there is nothing but agonising silence. Fortunately, Riku's interjection prevents it from stretching on any longer, pulling their attention back to him.

"Okay Roxas, for discussion's sake, let's say you convince Xion to go with you. What then? You'll always be on the run. The Organisation won't stop until they capture you or her. Not to mention you won't be able to keep it up for long. So long as you're near Xion, you'll keep getting weaker. One day you won't be strong enough to fight back. One day you won't even wake up."

Knowing Riku's words to be true, Roxas can only resort to defiance. "Like _this_ is any better!"

"Think about it, Roxas," the older teenager says in a reasonable manner. "Will you run away, knowing you'll eventually die or get caught? Or will you give yourself up now, something that's guaranteed to help out someone else?"

Against his better judgment, Roxas follows Riku's advice and weighs the two options. It's a lose-lose situation either way, both ending with his and Xion's demise. He lets out a defeated breath. "When you put it that way, what other choice do I have?"

"Sometimes there isn't any other choice." There's a solemn cast to Riku's face. "Doing the right thing often requires sacrifice."

_Sacrifice_. Hearing that term thrown around like _that_ – as though Riku fully _understands_ the awfulness it entails – makes Roxas' temper flare up again. "Easy for you to say, when it's someone else making the sacrifice!"

His retort causes a shift in Riku's demeanour, cool rationality giving way to something hard and unyielding. "Roxas," he declares, blindfolded gaze boring into his, "I _will_ wake Sora up at all costs. I'd rather not fight you for it. But if worse comes to worst, I _will_ do everything in my power to ensure it happens, even if it means taking you back to him against your will."

Having grown tenser and tenser over the course of Riku's less-than-friendly speech, Roxas finally gives in to instinct, calling the Keyblade to his fingertips. Riku reacts in similar fashion, leaping back as a dark, wing-like blade materialises in his hand.

Both assume a ready stance: Roxas with a double-handed grip, Riku with his ever-so-familiar weapon poised above his head. For a brief, charged moment, they size each other up—

But Xion intervenes before either of them can so much as lunge forward. In a black blur, she rushes past Roxas, throwing herself between him and Riku with arms spread wide.

"Guys, don't!" she yells. "There's no point in fighting!"

Feeling bewildered – and not a little _betrayed_ – by her actions, Roxas stares at his best friend's back. "Xion, why are you defending him?"

"I'm defending _you_," she corrects, looking over her shoulder to fix insistent eyes upon his. "Please don't fight him, Roxas. I don't want to see you get hurt."

Her words cut through his adrenaline haze like a Keyblade through Heartless, pulling back reason in its place.

One of the better lessons the Organisation had drilled into him is the importance of going into battle prepared. This brings him to the realisation that he doesn't know anything about Riku's combat skills, Sora's sketchy memories notwithstanding. Xion _does_ however, having engaged Riku before. Roxas recalls, days and days ago, how she had returned from her mission distraught, reporting that her opponent was too strong.

Combine that with the fact that he's becoming weaker and weaker recently, the odds are slim that he'd emerge the winner. Even now – riled up as he is – Roxas can feel the fatigue in his limbs, the inadvertent drain Xion's nearness has on him.

Moreover, there's something underlying Riku's claim to victory: an absolute, unshakable resolve. Roxas has no doubt that he would go to every imaginable length to achieve his goal. If needed, he'd pit himself against Roxas over and over until he finally beats him into submission. But where is this resolve coming from? What could motivate Riku so strongly?

Then the answer hits him.

"You'd do anything for Sora, wouldn't you?" Roxas calls out, more statement than question. _You'd even tear apart people's lives just for a chance to save him. I know, because— _

—_I'd do the same for Xion._

Behind Xion's shoulder, Riku's expression transforms into one of surprise. "Yeah."

That simple answer is enough for him. With a decisive wave, Roxas banishes his weapon, watching as Riku does likewise. Xion, on the other hand, continues to observe them with wary eyes. It is only until several seconds have passed that she steps away to the side, satisfied that the tension between them had dissolved.

"I get it," Roxas admits quietly. Then, driven by the need to justify himself – because there's no way he'd voluntarily reach a point of understanding with his _enemy_, of all people – he continues, "But I'm not saying I agree to this straightaway. You're sorely mistaken if you think I'm gonna walk to my death just like that. It's just—" he pauses, letting out a tired sigh, "I can see where you're coming from."

Riku acknowledges his compromise with a tight, not-quite-smile. "Glad to hear it."

Glancing over at his best friend, who returns his sombre gaze, Roxas announces, "I'm going with Xion to see Naminé. I wanna hear what she has to say with my own ears."

Riku doesn't object. "Go ahead. She's been wanting to meet you both for a long time."

"She does, huh?" Roxas raises an skeptical eyebrow. "We'll see how that goes."

Now that their emotionally charged conversation has reached its end, he turns away from the other guy, beckoning for Xion to join him. She does, leaving Riku behind, who resumes his slouch against the winged unicorn stand. Silence descends upon them as they ascend the left stairwell and proceed to the leftmost room at the end of the landing. It is not until they are standing before the white door that Roxas musters the courage to speak up:

"Xion?"

She turns towards him, unease plain across her face. "Roxas, about earlier, I—"

He shakes his head, forestalling what he knows to be an upcoming apology. "You _did_ make it clear to me. I just didn't wanna accept it."

Xion lowers her gaze. "It's… not easy, I understand."

"If you won't come with me, I'll just go with you instead." Reaching for her hands, he cups them tenderly within his own. Truth be told, it's a gesture for his benefit as much as hers, if only to overwrite the affront of Riku's earlier demonstration. _Roxas_ is the one who truly cares for Xion, after all. "No matter what, I'll always stand by you."

There's a breathtaking mix of gratitude and affection in her indigo eyes. "Roxas, you're the best friend anyone can ever want," she says with a small, sad smile. "But I'm not asking you to make the same sacrifice—"

"That's _my_ choice, isn't it?" he interrupts, not unkindly. "Don't count on it, though; I haven't made up my mind yet." With the same tenderness as before, he sets down her hands. "Like I said, I'll hear out Naminé first."

She nods. "Fair enough."

Drawing a deep breath, Roxas steps forward – towards the white doors of their imminent doom – and pushes them open.


	3. Snarl of Memories

**A/N**: One thing that struck me as peculiar is the way that canon depicts Roxas' recollection of Sora's memories. Roxas calls Sora 'the boy in red', as though he's viewing things from a observer's perspective. It makes him very detached from those memories, because he's effectively watching someone else go through them rather than experiencing them himself.

I don't like that interpretation. It doesn't any sense at all. Roxas should be reliving those memories from Sora's POV – which means he also remembers the emotions attached to them. I've tried to make that clear in the previous chapter when he recognises Riku, but it'll be more explicit when he recalls Kairi as well. Gonna play with the idea of transference and memory resonance. If you've read any of my NieR: Automata fics featuring the resident couple 2B/9S, you'll find that this is something of a recurring theme.

Also, I've headcanoned that Nobodies are physiologically identical to humans. They bleed, so they must have a functional circulatory system, which means they have a heart. Or the physiological equivalent. It's the metaphysical vessel that they're missing. Of course, Roxas doesn't realise that he's already grown a new heart…

Thank you for reading, and especially those of you who have left a review! Reviews keep me happy and motivated :-)

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**3\. **_**Snarl of Memories**_

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The room is overwhelmingly _white_.

Roxas squints, unaccustomed to so much brightness. Though the crayon drawings pinned to the walls break it up, the lack of colour permeates everything else: the ceiling, the furniture, the curtains. Even the girl sitting at the end of the table is pale enough to blend into the décor. Her fair complexion and straw-blonde hair barely differentiate her from her surroundings, and her ivory slip of a dress may as well be camouflage. But she does have _one_ stand-out characteristic: eyes the same shade of indigo as Xion's.

Said eyes are flitting between him and Xion now, a strange sheen in them that speaks of preternatural knowledge. Her voice contains the same mysterious quality, tinkling soft and silvery as she greets them:

"Hello Roxas, Xion."

"Uh, h-hi there?" Roxas garbles out, taken aback. Though their host doesn't look like the type to start a fight, he hadn't expected to be exchanging pleasantries with her.

Xion returns the greeting with rather more dignity. "Hi Naminé."

"You know," the blonde girl continues cordially, "I've been waiting a long time to meet you two."

Having only learned of _her_ existence a scant half-hour ago, Roxas can't say the same. "Who exactly _are_ you, Naminé?"

Something dark flickers across her face and disappears in the next instant. "I'm a witch with powers over Sora's heart and memories, and those of people connected to him."

Roxas nods. That description makes sense, given how Naminé had recognised him and Xion as soon as they'd set foot into her room, and unannounced at that. But unless he'd missed his guess, it's not something that she takes any real pleasure in.

"Does that mean you know all about Roxas and I, then?" Xion asks.

"I do."

A furrow forms between Xion's brows. "Naminé, there's something I've been wondering about. If I'm meant to be a copy of Roxas, how come I'm not more like him? Or Sora?"

Naminé's eyes have a knowing glint to them, as though she had anticipated this question. "That's because you're not Roxas _or_ Sora, but rather _Kairi_ as Sora remembers her. Perhaps it can even be said that you're Roxas' _idea_ of Kairi."

"Kairi," Roxas tries out the strangely familiar name. As it rolls off his tongue – filling him with a sharp, inexplicable pang of _longing_ – the cobwebs in his mind clear away. "Oh! She's the girl in Sora's memories who looks so much like Xion, but with red hair."

"It's more accurate to say that Xion looks like Kairi," Naminé remarks with a thoughtful purse of her lips, "rather than the other way 'round."

"'Cause Kairi's the original, I guess?"

"That's right."

Pressing his chin against his knuckles, Roxas muses over Naminé's revelation and what it implies. "So you're saying _I've_ somehow… made Xion the way she is? Like a reflection of Kairi?"

Naminé tilts her head, something that's halfway between a nod and a shake. "Xion formed her own identity over time, one distinct from Kairi's. But she didn't have any features to begin with, and it was her exposure to _you_ that gave her this appearance."

Roxas turns towards his best friend, towards the choppy black bangs and indigo eyes that he finds so indescribably precious. Xion doesn't seem to notice; her gaze is clouded over in deep thought. Unable to resist the impulse, he superimposes the hazy memory of Kairi's face over hers. The resemblance is so uncanny that he cannot believe he hadn't noticed it until now.

Is Xion the manifestation of his unconscious desires? A carryover from his forgotten past as Sora, wanting to be with the one he treasured most? Had he unknowingly longed for Kairi's presence so much that he'd shaped Xion into her likeness?

Although he has much to learn about feelings and their complexities, Roxas _knows_ that Sora cares for Kairi more than anything else in the world. There's always some emotion that saturates his memory-dreams of them together, which have become more frequent and vivid as his strength diminishes. Having run up against the blank wall of oblivion for so long, Roxas doesn't feel like he belongs in these memories anymore. He's hardly different from a spectator, now.

Nevertheless, he remembers—

_(contentment, when he and Kairi had sat side-by-side on the paopu tree, watching the sun set on the watery horizon—)_

_(fear and shock, when she was swept, ghost-like, into and _past_ his arms—)_

_(breathtaking relief, when her comatose body twitched as he reached towards her—)_

Not only are these feelings proof of Sora's devotion to Kairi, they also seem to have bled across to Roxas' relationship with Xion. Had he been reenacting his past with her all along, without realising it? That would explain so many things. Now that he thinks on it, what Sora feels towards Kairi is not unlike what Roxas himself feels towards Xion.

There's the way he unfailingly gravitates towards her, drawn by an initial spark of familiarity that had become warm and comfortable over time. There's his protectiveness of her, the fact that he'd do anything to keep her safe and make sure she's okay. And there's his wish to see her happy – to _be_ the source of her happiness – and remain evermore by her side…

These feelings, do they make up what 'love' is?

Xaldin had dismissed love as 'cloying nonsense' at the same time as he'd acknowledged its power. But it's something that neither he nor Roxas would ever grasp, due to their lack of hearts. (As the days went by, Roxas had become less and less convinced of _that_ argument.) Axel, on the other hand, had described love as something special that happens between two people.

There's _definitely_ something special between Sora and Kairi. One would have to be blind and deaf not to see that.

If Sora loves Kairi, does this mean that Roxas loves Xion?

And if he does, has this realisation come too late, for their time together is about to end? Has Roxas made it all this way – finally discovering that he _is_ capable of love – only to be robbed of all further opportunity, robbed of his very beloved herself?

It's an unbearable thought, one that leaves him choking on regret and bitterness at a future that would never be realised. Desperate for a distraction, Roxas seizes upon the nearest subject: Naminé.

The agonised beats of his nonexistent heart slow down as he focusses on their mysterious host. There's something about her that _itches_ at him. He doesn't quite recognise her, but she doesn't feel completely foreign either. Though her hair may be several shades too light, closer examination would reveal that she has the same heart-shaped face as Xion – as _Kairi. _

Why is that?

Taking a moment to gather himself, Roxas breaks the pensive silence. "Naminé?"

The indigo eyes that meet his are hauntingly familiar. "Yes, Roxas?"

"I can't help but notice _you_ look like Kairi too," he points out in his typical blunt manner. "You're not another copy like Xion, are you?"

Naminé shakes her head. "No, I'm just a shadow of Kairi." Her voice is tinged with unhappiness.

"Are you her Nobody, then?" Xion pipes up, giving the other girl an astute look.

Naminé responds with a small, close-lipped smile, an expression that Roxas has seen many a time on Xion's face. It makes their resemblance to each other – _and_ Kairi – all the more striking. "You figured that out pretty quick."

Another silence follows in the wake of her reply. Roxas blinks once, twice, three times. Among the many revelations dropped onto him today, this one had come completely out of left field.

Aren't all the elite, human-like Nobodies already gathered into the Organisation? Clearly, Roxas is mistaken. It's short-sighted of him to assume that only thirteen of them exist. Of course there would be more out there; the Organisation need only recruit enough members to fill up the numbered seats. Loath as he is to admit it, Xion had been no more than a lowly extra. Were Naminé among their ranks, it's likely that she wouldn't be treated any better.

But how had she come to _be_ in the first place?

Her self-described powers aren't like anything Roxas had ever heard of before, so she must be a special case. Did something unfortunate happen to Kairi, causing her to leave her Nobody behind? Or was Naminé born of some weird process that allowed hers and Kairi's simultaneous existence, like his and Sora's? If so, is she another victim of his and Xion's circumstance, someone doomed to rejoin their original self and disappear?

Thinking about this makes Roxas' gut lurch uncomfortably.

"Kairi is alive and well," Naminé supplies, as though she'd read his mind. "One day, I'll have to go back to her too."

That confirms it. So, Naminé is truest of their Nobody kin, united in the same tragic fate. "You're not very different from us, then."

She gives a sombre nod. "That's right."

"Then you oughta know how we feel!" Roxas bursts out. Though Naminé is merely a stranger – and one on the enemy's side, no less – he can't help but feel betrayed by her. "Why are you going along with this? Why are you helping Riku to wake Sora up?"

Naminé folds earnest hands over her breast. "Because the worlds _need_ Sora. As a Keybearer of Light, he carries great responsibility. And he's connected to so many people, friends and allies who miss him dearly." Then her expression changes, and Roxas can hear the mix of guilt and reverence in her voice. "Not to mention I owe so much to him. He was the first person to show me kindness. He forgave me and protected me, even though I did horrible things to him."

It's clear she'd undergone some sort of life-changing event with his other self. But Roxas suspects something else. If _he_ had managed to inherit Sora's feelings for Kairi – transplanted though they are onto Xion – it would make sense for the reverse to happen with Naminé.

"You care for him."

"I do." Her reply is quiet, but there is real conviction behind it. "I promised him I would wake him up."

"And you're willing to sacrifice me and Xion to do that," Roxas finishes for her, feeling resentment bubble up inside his chest.

Naminé's eyes are cast in shadow. "I know it's awful, and I honestly wish there were some better way," she admits, setting her hands down on the table. "But not everything is lost for you, Roxas. When you join with Sora, you won't be gone. You'll become whole. But Sora will be the dominant personality, while you linger in the background."

Riku had provided the same answer in different words. "So I'll be trapped in a body I have no control over?"

"It's more like you'll be sleeping inside him."

Roxas huffs. What is that but some half-baked excuse of a life? Still, it's leaps and bounds better than what his best friend is about to face. "But Xion will just disappear instead?"

"Sadly, yes."

"Why are things so… _final_ for her?" If Xion's demise cannot be avoided, Roxas would at least like an explanation why.

When Naminé answers, there's a heaviness to her voice, one that can only beget bad news. "You're Sora's Nobody, whereas Xion is a replica made up of Sora's memories. It is these memories that have given Xion her form and identity. Because of that, they are tied to her existence. Stripped of them, Xion will fade away, since she has no longer has anything to tether her to the world."

Naminé drops her gaze onto her hands, unable to maintain eye-contact. "Unfortunately, there is another consequence of this. When Xion returns to Sora, the memories that make her up will come apart. This will cause the memories that everyone holds of her to come apart, too. In short, they'll be rewritten as though she'd never been in them. No one will remember her." She shakes her head in despair. "Even with my powers, I won't be able to salvage a single memory of her."

It takes several seconds for Naminé's words to sink in. When they do, Roxas finds himself shaken to his very core. "So you're saying that not only will Xion vanish, I'll also _forget_ her?"

Naminé is still refusing to meet his eyes. "I'm terribly sorry."

Rounding on his best friend, Roxas demands, "Xion, did you know this?

The expression on her face looks far too much like acceptance. "Not the reason behind it, but I expected something like this, yes."

"And you're okay with it?" he persists, incredulity mixing in with his horror.

Xion's lips flatten into a grave line. "Coming to terms with it took a while, but I know it's the right thing to do."

Overcome by the urge to shake much-needed sense into her, Roxas steps forward and claps his hands around Xion's shoulders. "_The right thing_? Like hell it is!" he exclaims, his voice rising to a wail. "There's nothing right about forgetting you! You can't seriously want this!"

But his emotional display fails to dissuade her, and her eyes remain steady on his. _Resolute_. "Roxas, it has never been about what I want. Only what I _must_ do."

God, how that statement _hurts_. "Xion…" He topples forward, his forehead coming to rest against her shoulder. "Xion, I just can't do this." His words come out ragged, and tears spill unabashedly from his eyes. "I can't let you go _and_ forget about you, too. It'll be like losing you _forever_."

Xion doesn't reply. Roxas can feel her hand's gentle weight on the back of his head, her fingers curling into his hair. Were this another, happier occasion, he would have revelled in her touch. But it does nothing to console him now.

They stay in this painful stalemate for a full minute, neither able to let go. Then Naminé's tentative voice interrupts them:

"Roxas, Xion, if I may… say something?"

"Go on," he hears Xion say.

"There is something I can try. I might be able to untangle Sora's memories from you and Roxas. This will, in theory, allow both of you to live. Convincing DiZ to let me do it will be really difficult, though."

Roxas snaps his head up. Naminé's offer has kindled a flame of hope within his chest, so bright and painful that he finds it hard to breathe. "There's a way to let us… live?"

"I think so," Naminé replies with a hesitant nod. "But it's not a guarantee. And I don't know what the side-effects are. You could potentially lose all your current memories, and start over a blank slate. Not to mention it'll be a long and drawn-out process, taking at least a year."

Separating himself from Xion, Roxas dries his eyes on his sleeve. "I'm willing to take that chance. I'll take anything over forgetting Xion—"

"No, I'm afraid that won't work," Xion cuts him off, to his surprise. "Because of me, Roxas is already living on borrowed time. If we have to wait a year, he won't survive it. The whole point of giving myself up is to prevent that from happening. Without Roxas, Sora will never be complete. _I'm_ the expendable one."

It's nothing short of _devastating_, the prospect of being given salvation only to have it snatched away in the next instant. Across the room, Naminé's face falls.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think about that."

"Thank you for the offer anyway," Xion returns, all unwavering politeness.

This makes the other girl grimace harder. "There _must_ be something I can say or do to make things better…" Then inspiration lights up her eyes, and she turns to meet his gaze. "Roxas, your memories of Xion won't be permanently erased! Even if you forget her at first, you'll be able to remember her later on."

"That's… possible?" he says warily.

"Yes, I'm sure of it!" Naminé continues with an excited clap. "Think of memories like links in a chain. Recalling one memory leads to recalling another. After Xion returns to Sora, the links will will form a different chain, be arranged in a different order. But your memories of her will be still there; their links will simply need to be put together the way they were before."

Unbidden, hope swells inside him once more. "And how can I do that?"

"Though the memories themselves may fade, physical reminders – like a picture, or a note – won't. Maybe you can use that to jog your memory?"

With the suddenness of Thunder magic, it strikes Roxas that he doesn't _just_ have a note – he has pages upon pages of them. "My diary!" He pats his left pocket, and comes into contact with a reassuring rectangular shape. "I brought that with me."

"Reading your entries ought to help you remember," Naminé says encouragingly. "If Xion were to leave you a memento of some kind, that would also help."

"But wouldn't that mean Xion has to return to Sora first?" he points out. This strange amnesia would only take effect once Xion is gone. In order for Roxas to retain his autonomy so that he can forcibly remember her, Xion must therefore leave him behind and face her end alone.

And he must therefore bear the burden of her passing.

Naminé gives a solemn nod. "It does. You can go together, if you prefer. But you'd forget Xion when you reawaken as Sora."

Roxas shakes his head. "No, that's _unacceptable_. Even if it hurts – _no matter how much it hurts_ – I won't give up her memory." Turning to face his best friend, he presses a sincere fist to his chest. "I swear to you, Xion: I _will_ remember you."

Xion's eyes fly wide. "Roxas…"

"I won't let you fade away into nothing," he carries on, determined. "You deserve so much more!"

A wobbly smile forms on her lips, and she blinks in rapid succession, clearly holding back tears. "I'm really glad you think so."

Roxas studies her face, mesmerised by the play of emotion across it. With the final hour almost upon them, Xion is prettier than ever to him – _beautiful_, even. As his eyes roam over each dip and curve and freckle – committing them all to memory – one thing becomes clear to him: he'll never let her go.

Whether in life or death or nonexistence, Roxas will always treasure Xion.

All that's left for them now is to confront the inevitable. And the wan, fragile-looking girl seated at the opposite side of the room is their guide. It's ironic how she is laying down the path before them, given that she will walk their very footsteps when her time also comes.

"Naminé," Roxas begins, looking her in the eye, "there's something I wanna know. I realise you owe it to Sora to wake him up. But how can you accept all the horrible things that must happen in the process? Doesn't it bother you? You're a Nobody just like us! Don't you wanna be your own person, too?"

There is no humour in Naminé's replying smile. "If I could be my own person, that'll be a wish come true. But I'm a mistake. I don't deserve to exist in the first place."

"Why do you and Xion keep saying that?" Roxas groans, shaking his head in disbelief. "We _do_ deserve to exist!"

"We don't have a heart," she points out, her expression wooden. "We're just… freaks, empty shells, the by-product of something gone wrong."

"Do you honestly believe that?" Roxas places a hand over his chest, where he can feel the steady thrum of a too-convincing heartbeat. "Heart or no heart, we can still feel things!"

Naminé shakes her head. "Maybe we can, Roxas. But that doesn't make us real people."

"What makes someone _real_, then?" he argues, gesticulating fiercely.

"Real people are those who come into the world naturally. People like Sora." Naminé sounds certain, if joyless in her answer.

"So, because Sora is a real person and we're not, he's automatically more important than us?"

When Naminé fails to make an immediate comeback, Roxas expels a loud sigh. "Yeah, you and I have figured there's no way around this. But Naminé, is what I'm asking for really too much? All I want is to be me, to hang out with my best friends." His shoulders droop, and he cannot help the forlornness that creeps into his voice. "Why are we being punished for simply existing? Do we not deserve to live? Are our lives worth less just because we're not the real thing?"

The look Naminé gives him is filled with profound sadness. "I wish I had an answer for that," she says eventually, voice quiet.

In this moment, a dark corridor materialises next to Naminé, cutting off any reply Roxas might have given. Stepping out from it is a cloaked man in red and black. Though there are elaborate designs stitched into his clothing, it is his face that draws Roxas' attention. Swathed in a multitude of red bandages, it leaves nothing to be seen but his lips and a piercing orange eye.

He directs a stern frown at the blonde girl. "Enough chatter, Naminé." His voice is deep and imperious, not unlike that of the Organisation's Superior. Then he turns towards their audience. "Roxas, you and Xion are the missing pieces to Sora's whole. But he was never meant to be broken in the first place, just as you were never meant to exist."

Recognising hostility, Roxas clenches his fists and glares at the newcomer. "Is that supposed to _convince_ me?"

"You _will_ return to Sora, one way or another," the bandaged man counters, undeterred. "It is the only rightful path ahead of you."

As he had done before with Riku, Roxas bares his teeth rebelliously. "Not if I have any say in it!"

This prompts the newcomer to change tactics. "Will you die as a tool of the Organisation? Or will you fulfill your purpose, the purpose you know to be true?"

"DiZ, please," Naminé implores, tugging on the man's sleeve. "Give him some time to think on it."

He shakes his head at her, impatience evident. "Time is a resource we do not have, Naminé. But here you are, wasting it on useless semantics, giving undue trust to our enemy." Turning back to Roxas and Xion, he meets their gaze with an accusatory orange eye. "_You two_ – you have led the Organisation to our doorstep!"

Roxas stiffens in alarm. "They're here?"

"No, we ran away!" Xion exclaims, waving a hand frantically. "They must have tracked us down!"

He shifts, facing his best friend. "Xion, I'm pretty sure it's Axel. He received absolute orders to capture you."

"I can't let him take me back to the Organisation, Roxas," she pleads, urgency writ across her features. "You know what they'll do to me. I'd rather die. I'd rather be forgotten."

Roxas gives a sharp nod. However much he may _hate_ her sentiment, he wants to stay supportive of her. "Let's go face him, together."

Returning his nod, Xion accepts his proffered hand. With his free one, Roxas opens a dark corridor, leading them both through it and out of the mansion.


	4. The Ashes of Our Promise

**A/N**: This chapter has been reimagined many times, running the gamut of scenarios from idyllic to violent. After studying Axel's motivations in depth – and what a finicky character he is! – I decided it would be best to stick to a near-canon version of events. I can only hope I've managed to do this intense, heart-wrenching scene justice…

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**4\. **_**The Ashes of Our Promise**_

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Gut twisting in anticipation, Roxas exits the dark corridor, Xion on his heels. The grass crunches under their feet as they materialise in the clearing outside the mansion grounds. Behind them, the gates once again bar the entrance, having been closed and resealed during their sojourn.

Here, a familiar someone stands in wait.

He is tall and lanky, with his Organisation coat tailored to emphasise his build. But there's a noticeable stoop to his shoulders, and his distinctive mane of red hair is frazzled, testament to the number of times he must've run his hand through it. Deep shadows encircle his gem-green eyes, which contain none of their usual liveliness. All in all, he looks worn. Haggard.

"Why, this job has gotten even ickier," he mutters to himself, his gaze darting between them.

"Axel," they greet him in unison.

"Xion, Roxas." The insouciant drawl that characterises the eighth Organisation member returns, and he takes several strides forward, putting himself within combat distance. Although anyone has yet to draw their weapons, the air positively bristles with tension. "I didn't expect to find you together, but I'm hardly surprised. You two are magnets for each other… and for trouble."

When neither of them reply to that, he studies the architecture around and above their heads. "So, this is where the other team decided to set up camp, huh? Right under our very noses." Then he turns his attention onto Roxas. "Funny, it's also the same spot where the boss found you on your first day. The day you became one of us."

"Yeah, I sorta remember," Roxas replies lackadaisically, trying to figure out what the older Nobody is getting at.

That becomes apparent with Axel's next sentence, delivered with a narrowing of shrewd green eyes. "It's awfully poetic, isn't it, coming back to the place you began? Since you're here, I guess this means you've already been brought up to speed about everything you wanna know."

Roxas frowns. "That's something _you_ could've done, but you chose not to." His brows draw lower, and before he realises it, he is glaring daggers at Axel. "You _lied_ to me."

The redhead's lips peel back in a humourless grin. "I had every reason to."

"You destroyed my trust in you!" The words burst out of Roxas unbidden.

"What should I have done, then?" Axel raises his voice to match, abandoning his obvious façade of calm. "Lay out the truth? Nothing good would've come from it. Just look at us now. The results speak for themselves!"

Roxas clenches his fists. This is too much like the argument they'd had prior to his leaving the castle, where the frayed remains of their friendship had burned down to cinders. "Even if it's all bad news, don't I have the _right_ to know?"

The redhead lets out a derisive huff. "What garbage rhetoric. Ever heard of the saying 'ignorance is bliss'? If you and Xion had never learned about any of this, you'd both still be in the castle, happy and safe!"

"It's the principle behind it! _I_ should get to decide whether or not _I_ wanna hear the truth!"

"Would _you_ tell your friend the truth if it was only gonna lead them to their death?"

Snapping his jaw shut, Roxas hisses through his teeth. _That_ was a valid point. "Well—"

"Admit it, you won't," Axel overrides his substance-less fumble of a retort. "Or at the very least, you'd struggle to do it."

Then he flings out his arms before letting them fall back down, releasing a dramatic sigh in the process. "But everything I've done to hide the truth was a crapshot. You've found out your true destiny: going back to Sora." His features contort in ostensible pain. "You're both gonna die. I'm gonna lose you both at once."

"I—I haven't agreed to it," Roxas blurts out, consumed by the sudden urge to console his friend. Yet he's less certain of his answer than he was two mere hours ago, when he'd first come upon this terrible turn of events.

"But _you_ have, haven't you, Xion?" Axel prompts, turning to the third and hitherto-silent member of their trio.

She nods. "It's what I must do." There isn't the slightest waver in her voice.

"Then it's only a matter of time before you follow her," the redhead concludes gravely, gesturing at Roxas. "You'll follow her, throw both of your lives away, and leave me behind."

Roxas furrows his eyebrows. "What makes you so sure?"

There's a wistful curve to Axel's mouth. "Because you never were able to stand being apart from Xion. You've always taken her side, even from the beginning. She's… _special_ to you in a way that nothing else is."

Try as he might, Roxas cannot refute those words. Maybe it's because Xion had always seemed so vulnerable, in need of his support and protection – unlike Axel, the older, unflappable mentor-figure. Or maybe all of this stems from his unusually strong feelings for her, a phenomenon that Axel too had observed and recognised.

"But that's all moot anyway," Axel carries on, his expression hardening, "'cause I'm not gonna let it happen. I'm gonna bring _both_ of you back, starting with you, Xion. Got double the incentive – they'll destroy me if I refuse. Absolute orders be like that, y'know?"

Xion wrings her hands, her turmoil evident. "I'm really sorry, Axel. I hate to make you choose between my life and yours, but I—I can't go back to the Organisation."

"Well, I guess that makes _me_ the sorry one, Xion," the older Nobody points out, though he sounds distinctly unapologetic. "I'm afraid self-preservation is pretty high on my priority list. And so is keeping both of you _alive_."

"Axel," Xion's manner grows urgent, "that's not something you have the power to do. There isn't anything that will stop me from draining Roxas' life-force. I can't control it. Just being close to me will make him weaker and weaker, until he… won't wake up anymore."

Stubbornness is clear in the rigid set of Axel's face. "Then we'll keep you two separated for as long as we need to!"

"How long do you think we can realistically keep that up for?" Roxas interjects. The idea is shaky at best, not to mention there's a part of him that just _revolts_ at the thought of staying away from Xion indefinitely. "Besides, that's not even accounting for what the Organisation thinks of us. We're _traitors_! There's no way they'd take us back!"

"Maybe not with open arms, but you're not on the permanent hit-list yet!" Axel counters, as though there isn't any fate worse than becoming the Organisation's target for elimination. "If you come back voluntarily, I'm sure they'll let you off the hook. In case you forgot, we _need_ Keyblade wielders. Kingdom Hearts ain't gonna complete itself. What matters to Xemnas is that you're still under his thumb."

"So, if we continue to do his dirty work, he'll sweep it all under the carpet, huh?"

"Something like that."

Roxas scoffs. Though the Superior's convoluted plans may be beyond him, he's nowhere near stupid enough to think that he and Xion would get away scot-free. "_Yeah right_."

This prompts Axel to try a different approach. "Look at it this way: it'll at least give the three of us another chance to be together! Don't you want that?" A note of forlornness steals into his otherwise argumentative voice, and his hands flop down to his sides. "Even if it's only for a little while longer?"

Taken aback, Roxas hangs his head. "I _do_ want that. More than anything."

"Then why're you giving up already?" Laid bare, the pleading in Axel's expression is almost too _painful_ to look at.

As Roxas scours his mind for an answer, Xion reclaims control of the conversation. "We're not giving up, Axel; we're choosing to do what's _right_. I'm not going to stand by and let Roxas waste away because of me. By returning to Sora, I'm doing what's best for everyone."

Axel stares at her in disbelief. "It's only best for Sora and the other side. Our fucking _enemies_!"

Xion shakes her head. "I'm a puppet, with no purpose other than to be used and thrown away. If I'm going to die, Axel, I want my death to have some meaning."

"Why are you still refusing to listen?" Axel punctuates his question with a thump of fists against his thighs. "You don't need to _die_ in the first place!"

"So, I should let myself be a puppet for Xemnas instead?" Xion rejoins, a pitying smile on her lips. "Kingdom Hearts is a _sham_, Axel."

"How do you know that?" the older Nobody retorts, though the frantic movement of his eyes betrays his discomfiture at her statement. "And even if it is, it's keeping the Organisation from destroying you outright!"

"We're better off without them."

His brows soar into his widow's peak. "Better off _dead_?"

"That's guaranteed either way," Xion replies with quiet, devastating confidence. "When Kingdom Hearts is complete, Xemnas will have no further use for me or Roxas. He'll dispose of us; we cause too much trouble."

Axel waves about a frustrated hand. "So you'd rather let the other side dispose of you _now_?"

Angling her jaw up, Xion locks gazes with the redhead. "Giving Sora back his memories is the right thing to do. Helping Xemnas along with his plans is _not_."

"It's all so black and white to you, isn't it?" Axel sneers, tossing out his right palm, and then his left. "What's right, what's wrong."

"I _know_ this is right."

With exaggerated vigour, Axel throws up his arms into the air. "What's your problem? I'm trying to give you another way out, and you're tossing it aside like so much trash! Why can't you stop to consider it for just one teensy moment? That's all I ask!"

Xion's eyes are wide with apology, but there's an all-too-familiar resolve in them – the same resolve she'd directed at Roxas numerous times earlier. "Axel, I already _have_. The time I went back after I first ran away says enough about how the Organisation will treat me. Things have only escalated since then. Roxas and I just… don't belong there."

Silence descends in the wake of her reply, tense and gravid. Then it shatters as Axel heaves a loud sigh. "So that's how it is. You're gonna be pigheaded until the very end. Well, that leaves me no other choice."

Bracing his feet apart, he thrusts his shoulders back. Wreathes of flame appear around his hands, solidifying into his signature pair of chakrams. "If taking you back by force is the only way, then I _will_ do it. I'm gonna bring us all home – even if I must _hurt_ you in the process!"

In response, Xion summons her Keyblade and assumes a double-handed ready stance – a mirror of Roxas' own. "I'm sorry things have come down to this, Axel."

Roxas glances frantically between them. Though he can't say he hadn't expected this outcome, seeing it manifest in reality – for the second time, no less – is more than he can bear. "Guys, _no_!" He throws Axel a wild, betrayed look. "Axel, I told you not to harm her!"

"And I said that's up to her, didn't I?" the redhead growls back.

"I'm to blame; I've pushed him into this," Xion interjects before Roxas can open his mouth to argue. Turning back to the older Nobody, she continues, "Axel, please don't hold back. Promise."

Her words cause Axel to clench his eyes shut, his whole frame shaking. When he reopens them a moment later, Roxas sees a world of misery reflected in their emerald depths. "_Goddammit_, Xion."

Then he lunges forward, prompting Xion to do the same. Keyblade and chakrams clash in a cacophony of sparks and screeching metal. Then they separate and collide again, over and over, as their owners continue their contest of indomitable wills. Around each other the two Nobodies prowl, stepping forward to deliver a strike, or backing away from harm. Neither lets up for even one second, lest their opponent gain the upper hand.

Neither can afford to lose.

It's an deadlier, higher-stakes encore of their last fight, which took place some fifty days ago in another corner of the same town. And just like before, Roxas is delegated to the sidelines. As he looks on, anxiety swelling fit-to-burst within his chest, his fists clench tighter and tighter. Will he be the helpless bystander he was back then, frozen in horror while the two people he cared most about proceeded to _hurt_ each other—

"Guys, please stop it!" he screams.

His plea goes unheeded. If anything, it spurs on the combatants on, fuels the desperation in their attacks. Magic enters their fighting repertoire. Axel sends swarms of fireballs after Xion, who counters with rivulets of ice. As they whoosh past him, Roxas can feel the dichotomy of their opposing magic. One is a brief, searing heat that makes him flinch away in reflex, while the other is a lingering chill that steals the warmth from the ambient air. If anything can be said of these spells, it's that they're _serious_, cast with the intention to injure or debilitate.

All the while, Axel and Xion hammer at each other with their weapons. Xion uses her shorter height to her advantage, ducking easily under the redhead's swipes to swing at his knees. Axel, on the other hand, exploits his opponent's limited reach, keeping her at bay with a continuous bombardment of ranged attacks. Ultimately, this strategy, combined with his greater combat experience, gives him the edge. After a minute or so, it becomes clear that Xion is struggling to keep up. The gap continues to widen between them.

"Xion, watch out!"

Too busy fending off Axel's latest salvo of Fire spells, Xion loses track of one of his airborne chakrams. It flies behind her before looping around, its trajectory obvious to all but her. A sharp cry tears from her throat as it slams into her upper back, knocking her forward. It's barely in the nick of time that she regains her footing enough to raise her Keyblade, deflecting Axel's other incoming chakram.

"NOOOOOO!"

Keyblade flashing into his hand, Roxas rushes into the fray. The momentary flash of triumph in Axel's eyes morphs into alarm as Roxas leaps in front of him, teeth bared in a feral snarl.

"I won't let you hurt Xion anymore!"

He doesn't give the older Nobody a chance to reply. Driven by rage, Roxas brings his Keyblade down upon Axel. The redhead swings his chakrams forward to parry, but Roxas doesn't let up, raining blow after blow upon him. Attacking his opponents hard enough to put them on the constant back foot has always been Roxas' modus operandi. It's certainly working now, holding down Axel's full attention and keeping him _away_ from Xion.

But Roxas' energy is draining away fast. Staying on the offensive requires a great deal of stamina, something he's short on in recent days. Perhaps during the time that his and Xion's powers are in balance, Roxas would be strong enough to face off Axel alone. That's definitely _not_ the case now. Every counterattack Axel deals to him rattles his joints, exacerbates the burn of fatigue in his muscles. As the seconds pass by, it becomes more and more crucial that Xion rejoin the fight.

By double-teaming Axel, they'll be able to end the fight quickly – before Roxas turns into a liability.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as Xion produces a Hi-Potion vial from her pocket and gulps down the contents. Injuries attended to, she wastes no time in rushing to Roxas' aid. Together, they round on Axel, pushing the odds decisively in their favour. Under their combined assault, Axel falters. His movements slacken, and his attack patterns give way to something more disorganised and erratic.

Just as Roxas suspects they might've worn Axel down enough for him to call it quits, he dances out of their reach and undoes their efforts with a quick chug of his own Hi-Potion. The curative works on him in the same miraculous fashion as it had with Xion, restoring him to fighting health in a matter of seconds. It isn't an unexpected setback, really – Roxas should've realised sooner that their habit of carrying medicine into combat goes both ways.

They'll just have to wear Axel down again.

But their opponent's extra Potions may prove a problem. Those could prolong the fight longer than necessary, beyond the scope of Roxas' limited endurance. Seizing the next opportunity, Roxas smashes his Keyblade against Axel's thigh, where he knows the pocket is located. His aim is true, as evidenced by the clink of shattering glass alongside Axel's grunt of pain.

The redhead stumbles away, patting his ruined pocket. When he turns out its contents, there are only broken shards coated in the Hi-Potion's fluorescent green fluid. His dismayed wince does not bring about any sense of satisfaction within Roxas, only something bitter and resigned.

"_Fucking hell_, Roxas! Why you gotta do that…"

Biting back his automatic apology, Roxas steps into his place by Xion's side. Thus they present a united front against their mutual best friend.

Axel looks between them, and the shift in his expression makes it clear that he recognises his impending defeat. Something terrible and desperate takes shape in his eyes. "You wanna fight dirty, huh? Well, I'll just have to return the favour!"

Without warning, a wall of flame erupts between Roxas and Xion. He leaps out of the way, only to realise that's exactly what Axel wants: _to separate them_. True to said realisation, the wall expands into a gigantic, impassable barrier that divides the entire field. While it's probably costing Axel the remainder of his magic reserves, it also lets him single them out and concentrate on one target at a time.

What Roxas hadn't anticipated is the fact that Axel would choose _him_.

He blocks the first incoming chakram, but the second, enchanted with deadly fire, bypasses his guard. There is a hot rush of pain as it connects with his middle, forcing the air out of his lungs. Then Roxas knows only agony as he is struck over and over, his small body giving out under the barrage of fiery punishment.

Soundly thrashed, Roxas collapses onto the desiccated grass, smoke rising from his coat. Having served its purpose, the wall of fire evaporates.

"_Roxas_!" Between the pain and his thoroughly scrambled senses, Roxas is finding it difficult to make out what's happening. But he recognises Xion's scream, feels the patter of her approaching footsteps. They stop near him; Xion must be surveying the damage. "Axel, how _could_ you?"

"It was two-versus-one!" the redhead barks back, sounding almost as distraught as she is. "I _had_ to use whatever leverage there is!"

"_You hurt Roxas_!" He had never heard Xion shout like that before, her voice filled with such intense, righteous _fury_. "I'll make you _pay_ for that!"

As Roxas turns his pounding head for a better view, a brilliant white aura engulfs Xion and her Keyblade, which transforms into a beam three times its normal length. She rushes at Axel, who proves no match for her powered-up form. Her attacks are swift and devastating, a series of wide slashes that cut through his increasingly sloppy parries. Soon he is helpless to defend himself, leaving Xion to toss him around like a ragdoll.

Maybe Roxas is imagining things; his vision _is_ getting blurrier by the second. But Xion's image seems to flicker as she zips back and forth around Axel. Her face changes into that of a boy's – one identical to Roxas' own – and her hair lightens and grows, becoming a shaggy mess of chestnut-brown spikes.

By the end of it, Axel is a crumpled heap on the ground, while Xion stands over him, victorious. She has resumed her normal black-haired appearance, making Roxas wonder if that weird… flicker was indeed a figment of his hazy imagination. He also feels more exhausted than ever, blanketed by a weariness so profound that it seems to have sunk into his very bones. Had Xion unintentionally drained too much energy from him by using her Limit Break?

"Man… you did a serious number on me, Xion," Axel pants.

"I didn't _want_ to, Axel," Xion replies, fixing the redhead with an unforgiving stare. "But you _hurt_ Roxas. You took advantage of his weakness and gambled on his life. It made me so _angry_."

A pained chuckle escapes the older Nobody. "Can't blame ya. Speaking of which, you'd better… check up on him…"

Xion turns around. "Roxas?"

He can barely move. Even something so simple as drawing breath takes a tremendous effort. His limbs may as well be fixed lead weights for what little strength he can muster, and his already unfocussed vision is swimming with black dots. It would be so easy to let his eyes drift shut and surrender to the encroaching darkness—

"Roxas, _please_! Stay with me!"

Xion's warm presence settles by his side, and he finds his upper body hoisted up and cradled within protective arms. His lips part willingly as she presses a vial against his mouth and tips the contents within. The liquid burns on the way down. However many times Roxas may have imbibed Potions and the like, he had never grown accustomed to the acrid flavour.

The effect is almost instantaneous. For the next few seconds, Roxas is engulfed by white heat as his broken flesh and bones knit themselves back together at a hyper-accelerated rate. Then it evaporates, leaving him blessedly free of pain. He doesn't need to check beneath his clothes to know that every wound had been erased as though they'd never existed.

Raising a gloved hand, Xion tenderly brushes his fringe away from his face. "How're you feeling now?"

"B-Better," Roxas wheezes, fighting the battered sensations that linger about his insides. The Hi-Potion may have patched over his injuries, but it doesn't leave him more energised than before. "T-Thanks, Xion."

"So, you'll really leave me behind," Axel's scratchy voice recaptures their attention.

Both Roxas and Xion turn towards him. "Axel…"

He thumps his chest, spluttering. "It's… no more than I deserve, heh. I suppose I owe you two an explanation…"

"Let's hear it," Xion replies, giving an agreeable nod.

The redhead pauses for a moment to consider his words, and his features take on a melancholic cast. "You – both of you – really mean something to me, y'know? I was prepared to do anything to keep us together. Even… _hurt_ you.

"All the secrets, all the lies… Every dirty little side-job… I did that for us. I knew we couldn't stay together. I knew that from the very beginning. But I wanted to keep the illusion going for a bit longer…

"Being with you two… made me feel… like I had a heart." He moves his hand over his chest, clutching at the tattered fabric there. "I just… didn't expect it to hurt this much, y'know? If I was really Somebody… I don't think I can bear the pain."

A great sigh escapes him, and his arm falls back down as he sinks lower onto his knees. "I've failed you so badly. I went about it all wrong. And the price I must pay… is to lose the both of you. Everything I've done… it feels like it was all for nothing." He inhales sharply; it almost sounds like a sob.

Overtaken by the sudden need to get words out of his still uncooperative lungs, Roxas coughs and clears his throat several times. "Axel, t-that's not true," he eventually croaks out. "It may be over for us… but it isn't for you. You still get to be yourself. You're still free."

But Axel shakes his head slowly, _sadly_. "You just don't get it, do you? It _is_ all over."

The telltale black mist of a dark corridor surrounds him, coalescing into an inky circle around his feet. "Xion, Roxas." Their names fall from his lips in a fond murmur that Roxas has never heard from him before. "Let's meet again… in the next life. Then we'll go to the beach together, the three of us."

Hearing that old promise kindles a familiar warmth inside Roxas' chest, though this time it's accompanied by a dull ache. "Yeah… I'd like that."

"Can you imagine it?" Axel continues in as fanciful a voice as he can manage, as though weaving a tale to spellbound children. "Blue seas, blue skies, the smell of salt in the air, the sound of the waves… We'll all sit against a tree somewhere, talking and eating ice-cream and watching the sun set."

"That sounds _w-wonderful_, Axel," Xion replies, her words at odds with the tremor in her voice, the tears streaming unashamedly down her cheeks.

A small smile blooms across the older Nobody's face. For some reason, it highlights the strange marks under his eyes. _They're reverse teardrops_, Roxas realises with a painful lance of comprehension.

"It does, doesn't it? Such a beautiful, silly dream."

The dark corridor swells to its full height, engulfing him before dissipating into shadowy wisps. Axel is gone, and only emptiness remains in his wake.


	5. Shion

**A/N**: Wow, it's been a year since I've updated. I do have a legitimate excuse: I welcomed my baby daughter into the world. Taking care of a newborn is exhausting, hard work (yay sleep deprivation!) and not at all conducive to creative expression. But I'm still determined to finish this story, so I've returned with another chapter.

It should be obvious from the natural progression of the story, but this chapter comes with a tearjerker warning.

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**5\. **_**Shion**_

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"Roxas, can you stand?"

Wrenching his gaze away from the spot Axel had disappeared, Roxas turns towards Xion. Her arms are warm against his back, having yet to unfurl from their supportive embrace. Bracing his palms against the ground, he tries pushing himself up. But his arms are wobbling so much that they can barely hold his weight. It takes a full minute and stupendous effort to rise mere inches, and when he finally _does_ manage to sit up, his muscles give out, forcing him to slump back down.

Why is he still so tired, so _weak_?

Xion's eyes have grown wide with alarm. "Oh no. I must've sapped too much of your strength…"

"S'not… your fault," he grits out, struggling upwards again to no avail. "Wasn't deliberate."

She unslings an arm from underneath him to search her pockets, and frowns when they come up empty. "If only I hadn't used up my last Potion earlier…"

He runs a quick mental check of his inventory. "I should still have a bunch."

"Let's try another one?"

He nods in agreement. Without further delay, Xion slips a hand into his pocket and retrieves one of his remaining Hi-Potions. Popping off the lid, she presses the vial to his lips. The medicine is no less unpleasant the second time 'round, eliciting another grimace as he gulps it down.

"Feel any better?" Xion asks, studying his face intently.

Roxas considers the Potion's effects, or lack thereof. His injuries are well and truly mended upon the double dose, but that all-pervading sensation of weakness remains. The expected surge of energy that comes with downing the restorative is still worryingly absent.

"Maybe?" he offers dubiously. "I'm not sure this is something a Potion can fix."

Xion's expression turns sombre. "You're right. The only thing that can fix it is if I… go away."

Hearing that causes his chest to lurch painfully. "Xion…" he begins. But the rest of his yet-unformed consolation dies in his throat. There isn't anything he can say or do to combat the horrible truth.

Recognising this, Xion changes the topic. "Let's get you back inside."

Roxas redirects his thoughts to the mansion, with its dusty, unexplored corridors and less-than-benevolent occupants. "Is it safe in there, now that I'm in no condition to fight?"

"I doubt anyone will harm us," comes Xion's confident reply.

Yes, Riku and Naminé have made their positions clear: sympathetic but uncompromising. The bandaged man – perhaps their leader, judging by the way Naminé had deferred to him – hadn't bothered to hide his hostility, however.

"What about that guy in red? He was offended by our very _existence_," Roxas spits out the word like it's poison.

"I think the fact that we fought against Axel proves we're on Sora's side," Xion reasons. "Whatever that guy is after, he wants Sora to be whole again. And for that, he needs our cooperation."

"I'm not sure I wanna cooperate with him…"

But his protest seems to fall on deaf ears. Instead of replying, Xion has busied herself with repositioning him so that she is now supporting his weight on her shoulder. With a fluid ease that surprises him – evidently his body feels heavier to him than it does to _her_ – she lifts them both to their feet. Her Keyblade materialises in her unoccupied hand, and a flourish later, the relocked gate swings wide to admit them once more.

They reenter the front yard in a ponderous shuffle, Roxas feeling frustrated and not a little anxious at his own helplessness. It is in this moment that the mansion's double doors fly open, revealing a frazzled-looking Naminé. She rushes towards them, sandalled feet and pale hair aflutter.

"Xion! Roxas!" Stopping in front of them, Naminé takes in Roxas' battered form. "Oh no…" She reaches out as though to touch him, but reconsiders this action, her hand hovering awkwardly in midair for a few seconds before she sets it down.

"I stopped Axel before he went too far," Xion explains grimly. "But I made Roxas' condition worse in the process…"

Naminé turns towards Xion, the same grimness reflected in her eyes. "I saw what happened from my room, but I couldn't do anything to help. Roxas… if he's too weak to even walk, it means he doesn't have much time left."

That confirms it: that this strange, incurable exhaustion is the harbinger of his doom. Honestly, he should've realised it sooner. If he hadn't maintained his tenuous grip on consciousness earlier – after Axel had dealt that deathblow barrage – would that have been the end of him? Would he have slipped into the nothingness beyond, never to see or feel or experience anything ever again?

The prospect of complete oblivion is one that chills him to the very core. He'd come so terrifyingly _close_. Even now, he hovers on the brink. He can feel it, a great abyss threatening to swallow him whole, kept at bay only by the fragility of willpower. But he must hold on. All of their efforts – discovering their true identity, rebelling against the Organisation, coming to terms with their fate – would be for nothing if he doesn't.

"I know. We must hurry." Gripping Roxas more securely around his back, Xion takes a step forward.

"There's a room on the ground floor where he can rest," Naminé offers. "I'll take you to it."

"Thanks," Xion replies. It's several seconds later before she speaks up again, as though searching for the right words to say. "I know it's a lot to ask given that we're practically strangers, but can you do a favour for me, Naminé?

There is a wary, if expectant glint in Naminé's eyes. "What is it?"

Xion studies Roxas for a moment before meeting Naminé's gaze. "Can you please take care of Roxas, once I'm gone?"

A multitude of emotions play across the blonde girl's face, then her brows scrunch together in a determined frown. "I'll do my best."

Relief is evident in Xion's answering sigh. "Again, thank you, Naminé."

With Naminé leading the way, they navigate to the aforementioned room. While no less antiqued than the foyer outside, it shows signs of recent use, with the furniture brushed clean of dust and cobwebs. Xion lowers Roxas onto a couch along the opposite wall; he's too spent to do anything other than collapse bonelessly into the seat. Naminé, on the other hand, lingers in the doorway, having elected not to follow them inside.

"I'll show you where to go," she calls, beckoning Xion towards her.

Xion turns on her heel in preparation to follow. But before she can so much as take a step, Roxas catches her sleeve.

"Xion, wait!"

She spins back towards him, urgency plain across her face. "I have to go now, Roxas. If I stay any longer, you might—"

"No. Please _stay_, Xion," he implores, mustering what little strength he has to clutch her arm more tightly. It overwhelms him, the terrible feeling that if he lets go, he'll never see her again. "Just for a bit. _Please_."

Xion hesitates. Her gaze darts questioningly to Naminé, who replies with a nod. Approval thus gained, she returns her attention to Roxas. "Okay. Just for a bit," she repeats.

Recognising their unspoken request for privacy, Naminé exits the room. The door closes behind her with a pronounced click, leaving Roxas and Xion alone with each other – for what most certainly is the last time.

Knowing full well that what remaining minutes he shares with his best friend are numbered, Roxas scrambles to action. Despite his body's protests, he scoots back against the arm of the couch and painstakingly hauls himself into a sitting position. "Xion—"

"Don't push yourself, Roxas," she hushes, placing a gentle hand on his chest to forestall him. "Save your strength."

"I want to remember you," he proclaims. "I _need_ to."

This is Roxas' final chance to create a reminder of him and Xion together. Maybe it'll be a futile action. Maybe Naminé's statement holds true – that only the permanency of a physical object will successfully jolt his future self's rewritten memory. But if he allows this opportunity to go to waste, he'll never forgive himself.

"Can you—can you please come closer?"

Xion obliges without hesitation, kneeling down beside the couch so that her gaze is now level with his. She is near enough for him to reach out to touch her face – and he readily surrenders to the urge, placing his hand tenderly against her cheek. Her eyes flutter shut, and she leans into his touch in clear appreciation. But even as he revels in her reaction, the way it kindles that intense, gratifying warmth inside his chest, he finds that it's not enough. There's something still _missing_.

Then comprehension clicks. It's his _gloves_ – the thin layer of fabric separating them – that's bringing about this discontent.

He withdraws, peels them off. Without them in the way, he'll be able to brand the memory of _her_ into his skin.

Recapturing her face between his hands, he traces her features with his now-exposed fingertips. Engraves into his mind the deep pools of her indigo eyes, her small, delicate nose and equally delicate lips. Smoothes his thumbs over the slim arches of her brows, brows that have conveyed so many emotions that Nobodies are supposedly incapable of feeling. Combs his fingers through her ink-dark hair, admiring the silky texture even as he mourns the fact that he'll never be able to do this again. All the while Xion remains motionless, letting him do as he wishes without uttering a single word.

Then he lowers his hands to her waist and pulls her close, or as awkwardly as one half-reclining on a couch can embrace another. She returns the gesture with equal fervour, crushing him tight against her. Impossibly close like this, he can smell her scent – something mellow and pleasant – and feel the warmth of her body, how her chest expands and contracts with each breath. Here's the final, living proof of her existence – one soon to be extinguished – and only _he_ will remember it.

His throat suddenly feels too tight, and moisture brims in his eyes.

"This is so un_–unfair_," he says over her shoulder, his voice breaking on the word. "Why do we have to lose everything?"

"Roxas…" There is sympathy in the way she calls out his name, but it's clear that she's exhausted her well of comforting platitudes.

"It hurts, Xion," he confesses, trying and failing to stifle the onslaught of tears. "Just the thought that I'll never see you again… _it hurts so much_. I never want to let you go."

"I wish I could stay, too." Xion's voice sounds as broken as his own. "Be with you."

"I swear, I'll never forget you," he declares through his tears, meaning every word. "You'll always be in my heart, Xion."

"And you'll always be in mine, Roxas," she answers in kind, "wherever it is that mine goes."

They remain like this for an untold amount of time, crying unashamedly into each other's shoulder while holding on for dear life. But exhaustion beckons, an unrelenting pull that Roxas lacks the strength to fight back. Bit by bit, his grip on Xion slips. It isn't long before his arms fall away from her entirely, causing their desperate embrace to come apart. Then he's slouching back into the seat, struggling in vain to keep his eyes open.

Finally, the day's exertions take their toll on him, dragging him under the surface into unconsciousness.

* * *

Roxas startles awake.

His head is a little groggy, and his eyes have a gritty sensation to them. Rubbing them makes it apparent that they're encrusted with some kind of residue. Had he been crying in his sleep? Other than that, he feels better than ever. Like he's had a proper night's rest, and then some. The strange weakness that had plagued him for the past two months is gone.

This is accompanied by a distinct feeling that he's forgotten _something really important_.

He takes quick stock of his surroundings, which are largely unfamiliar. With a jolt, he realises that he is inside the abandoned mansion in Twilight Town. But why is he here? He'd overlooked this place so many times; it'd never occurred to him to check within.

Then another mental switch flicks, and memories flood his mind in a haphazard rush. He remembers Riku, Naminé, the unnamed bandaged man. They were discussing his connection to Sora – that's right, he's _Sora's_ fricking Nobody – and the necessity of returning Sora's memories by virtue of giving up his own existence. Of course, those discussions were anything but pleasant. In one, he'd become so angry that he'd drawn his Keyblade on Riku. The fact that he hadn't proceeded to beat the other guy to a pulp meant he'd exercised unusual restraint.

Was there something that held him back? Something more at stake?

Why can't he recall the details?

Then Axel showed up, and they fought. Why were they fighting? Oh yeah, Axel wanted to bring him back to the Organisation, but Roxas refused. Unable to take 'no' for an answer, Axel had resorted to force. Roxas made the crucial mistake of burning through his limited stamina during the fight, and subsequently lost. But if he is here now – in enemy territory – rather than back at the Castle That Never Was, then Axel mustn't have succeeded. Was there an intervention?

Did someone save him?

Roxas clutches his head. Something is _wrong_ with these memories. They're hazy, incomplete. It's as though important bits had been cut out, leaving him to sloppily patch together the remaining mess.

Moreover, it's not just recent memories that are affected. Even the older ones, in which he's participating in missions or interacting with other Organisation members, don't seem quite right.

Was Roxas really alone in his numerous trips to Agrabah and Beast's Castle? Why can't he shake the feeling that there was someone watching his back, ensuring that he didn't get hurt? Not to mention there's that strange occasion where he'd chosen to wield an ordinary stick instead of his Keyblade. Surely there's a reason for it. True, he can be reckless at times, but it's the height of stupidity to muck around with dangerous Heartless while defenseless!

Then there's his intense _dislike_ of Saïx, which culminated in Roxas crushing him in battle upon leaving the Organisation. However, Roxas cannot for the life of him recall what Saïx had done to earn such vitriol. Sure, the scarred Nobody was far from likeable, but he hadn't treated Roxas badly, just with indifference. Something doesn't add up here.

Finally, when Roxas would visit the clock tower after a day's work, he'd consistently buy three bars of sea-salt ice-cream. One for himself, another for Axel, which begs the question of whom the _third_ is for. While he enjoys the flavour, it's a bit much to eat double his share. Was there someone else he'd planned to give that last ice-cream to? Someone who never showed up? Like they were supposed to be there, but somehow weren't—

—because they'd been forcibly erased from his memory?

Roxas shakes his head. It's a ridiculous explanation. Impossible. _Frightening_ even; how reliable are his memories if they can be tampered with in this manner? But nothing else makes sense, and the idea of an invisible, forgotten person fits all too _well_. They'd be his missing field partner, the other friend with whom he'd eat ice-cream, the victim of Saïx's mistreatment whose behalf he'd get angry on.

Still, if this is true – and his instincts scream 'yes' – who _is_ this person?

He strains, hoping to piece together a face from his tattered recollections. But however hard he tries, he is met with nothing but a indistinct blur. It's beyond frustrating, like dipping his hands into a vast ocean of knowledge only to have the answers slip like water between his fingers.

Well, he's not getting anywhere like this. Maybe his surroundings hold some clues?

His gaze passes over the unremarkable red-brown walls and similarly coloured cabinets before alighting on the centre table. There's a book lying there, its hard white cover emblazoned with the Nobody symbol—hang on, that looks like his diary! How did it get here? He'd taken it with him when he'd deserted the Organisation, so it should still be in his pocket, right?

A quick pat of said pocket confirms that's not the case. Rising from the couch, Roxas makes his way to the table. If that book is indeed his diary, perhaps its contents will help unravel more of the mystery that he's currently caught up in.

As he approaches the table, something else draws his attention: a small, diamond-shaped object lying beside the book. Its colour is a gradient of pink and yellow, and its base tapers into three points. He's no expert on seaside paraphernalia, but this is one he identifies: a thalassa shell.

Within him, familiarity spikes, a palpable pang against his chest.

Driven by this feeling, he picks up the shell. To his disappointment, it doesn't trigger any resurgence of memory. Still, if what he feels is any indication, the shell clearly means something to him. He just doesn't know _what_ yet.

Carefully stowing the shell away for later examination, Roxas returns his attention to the book. Yeah, it's his diary alright; he recognises those worn corners. But there's a foreign addition: a loose sheaf of paper tucked behind the cover.

He pulls it out and unfolds it, revealing lines of handwritten script that fill the whole page. The letters are small and angular but elegant, slanting ever so slightly to the left – a contrast to his own rounded, messy scrawl. Although the handwriting isn't one he knows, he decides that he likes it straightaway.

He sounds out the words in his mind. As though in reply, a voice echoes from within the depths of his mind, soft and achingly familiar. With each passing syllable, it grows louder and louder, until it replaces his internal narrator altogether:

* * *

_Dear Roxas,_

_If you're reading this, then I'm no longer around. Which will likely leave you confused, wondering what this is about. Or who I even am._

_Naminé said it might help if I left you some kind of memento. So while you were sleeping, I decided to write you a letter. Due to the complications of my existence, your memories of me will be messed up after I go away. So right now, you won't remember me._

_It's weird, having to reintroduce myself after we've known each other for so long. But I think it's the best way to start._

_I'm Xion, the Organisation's fourteenth member. You and I and Axel are best friends._

_That's a pretty bold claim to make, isn't it? Saying that we're best friends right off the bat. But after everything we've gone though together, it's the only fitting term._

_You and I are really close. Closer than I am with Axel, because we have so many things in common. We're around the same physical age, and we can both use the Keyblade. And unlike the other Organisation members, we don't remember our pasts. Though the question of what makes up our past is a rather complicated matter._

_That's because you and I were created from the same person: Sora. You're his Nobody, and I'm a replica made to copy him – and you, by extension._

_But I didn't turn out like either of you. Instead, I took on the form of Sora's most special person: Kairi. I look just like her, though my hair is much darker. As you're Sora's Nobody, it would make sense that you see her in me. Maybe that's what drew you to me in the first place. Maybe that's why you care so much about me._

_Please note that I'm not questioning your feelings towards me. I believe they're fated to be, since we _are_ strange echoes of Sora and Kairi. I'm more amazed that anyone can bring themselves to care for a puppet like me at all. Let alone to the extent that you do. _

_What I want you to know, Roxas, is that I care about you just as much._

_I'll always treasure all the times we spent together. Starting from when we first became friends. I can barely remember those early days, but that memory somehow stands out like a beacon to me. I used the Keyblade to defeat the gigantic Heartless, and you took me out for ice cream as a reward. Said it was 'icing on the cake'. _

_We sat on the top of the clock tower, and you smiled at me. Has anyone told you that you have a beautiful smile, Roxas? You looked happy, just because I was with you. It made feel so warm inside._

_But you fell into a deep sleep soon afterward. It made me really worried, but I had faith you would wake up eventually. So I left a seashell by your pillow after every mission, knowing that it would bring me closer to the day I'd see your smile again._

_And you did wake up. But that's when I lost my ability to summon the Keyblade. I felt so ashamed that I couldn't face anyone. I was terrified of being useless. But you and Axel found me, and came up with the brilliant idea of teaming up and doing double-duty to cover for me._

_Even though it inconvenienced you, you leapt to help me without any hesitation at all. I was astounded by your kindness. No one had ever treated me like that before, like I really mattered. You even put my safety and concerns above your own. I'll never forget the time you let me borrow your Keyblade and used a stick to fight, of all things! _

_That's what friendship is about, isn't it? Being there for each other, during the good times and the bad. You were always willing to support and look after me. But accepting help is something I struggled with, and I made it harder for you without meaning to. _

_I'm so sorry about that._

_Please know that I appreciate every little thing you've done for me. Like jumping to my defense whenever Saïx belittled me, or making an effort to cheer me up when I was feeling sad. (Again, I'm really sorry for brushing you off.) I especially liked it when you left seashells by my pillow, just like I had done for you earlier. By returning the favour, you made it special. Like a unique thing just between us. _

_I've said it before, but you really _are_ the best friend anyone can ever want. _

_It isn't just that, though. Simply put, you're a wonderful person, Roxas. So loyal and brave and honest. So kind. I'm really glad to have you in my life, by my side. Words will never be enough to express how much you mean to me, but I'll try anyway:_

_I love you with all my heart._

_That may sound like an insincere statement, because we're Nobodies and supposedly don't have hearts. But can't you feel it? The steady thrum when you place your hand against your chest? How that space inside fills up with so much feeling, it's as though you're about to burst? Whatever that is – even if it's just a pale imitation of the actual thing – it beats loud and clear. And every beat is for you._

_Even though I'm just a puppet, I know that what we share is real. I know what that warmth inside my heart is, when I look upon your face and see you smile. Every moment we spent on the clock tower, talking and laughing and eating ice-cream, is precious to me. Oh, how I wish those days would last forever…_

_But we were doomed from very beginning. It's like Axel said: our happiness only came about thanks to our ignorance. The moment you and I started to piece together the truth, things quickly went downhill. And now that we've finally reached the end, all that's left to do is to make the most of it._

_I've chosen to go back to Sora._

_I know how incredibly sad this makes you feel. Believe me, it pains me just as much to have to leave you. But I've already overstayed my welcome. I've come far too close to stealing away your life completely, and there's no way I'd risk that just so I can stick around for a bit longer. _

_So I left while you were asleep. Maybe it's cowardly of me to run away like that, but I don't think I can bear watching you cry for me again._

_After everything you've given me, giving up my life for yours is the least I can do. So let this be my last favour to you. My final show of appreciation._

_Thank you, Roxas. For being you. For being someone who stood unfailingly beside me, and letting me do the same for you. Never forget, I'm always with you. So long as we remember each other, we'll never be apart._

_Take care, my dearest friend. And who knows? Maybe we'll meet again someday, in the place where our hearts and memories belong, forever intertwined._

_Love,_

_Xion_

_P.S. Out of the shells you've left by my bedside, this thalassa shell is my favourite. I've always carried it with me, even on missions. It's kinda like a lucky charm to me. Now that we must part ways, I would like you to keep it._

* * *

"Xion," Roxas tries out the name. His mouth and lips form the twin syllables with ease, clearly familiar with the pronunciation.

As though this simple utterance had broken a dam within him, his _real_ memories come flooding back, filling the gaps in his broken ones. Image after image of _her_ flash behind his eyes. Choppy black hair. Indigo eyes. A gentle smile. The pink-gold rays of twilight scattered across her face, turning her into the most beautiful vision he'd ever seen.

Again he hears her voice, in snippets of conversations past:

"_Roxas, do you think you and I can be friends, too?"_

"_Brain freeze, haha!"_

"_Roxas, that's a _stick_."_

"_Thank you, Roxas."_

Then the memories relinquish their hold on him, causing him to gasp as they dissolve into the hazy recesses of his mind whence they came. With trembling fingers, he traces the words on the letter. A vain hope arises: if only he could somehow reach through those words and materialise the author into existence. Then his moment of fancifulness evaporates, leaving him with mere paper and ink alongside the gaping sensation of _loss_.

Pain erupts in his chest, more intense and debilitating than even the hardest physical blow he'd received. Pressure builds behind his eyelids until it can no longer be contained, escaping down his cheeks in hot, prickly rivulets. As he clutches the letter to his chest, his knees give out, causing him to crumple onto the floor like a puppet with its strings severed. His breaths are now coming quick and laboured, and he cannot stop his entire frame from shaking.

"Xion—"

—_I remember you._

Alone in a desolate corner of an old, abandoned mansion, Roxas weeps for the friend he'd loved and lost.


	6. To Keep An Oath

**A/N**: The finale is here at long last! Time to wrap up some loose ends.

For those of you who have kept up with the story despite its erratic publishing, thank you for your patience. I hope you've enjoyed the ride. Remember, comments are love :-)

* * *

xxx

**6\. **_**To Keep an Oath**_

xxx

How long it's been since that fateful afternoon, Roxas can't say.

Even if he retained the presence of mind to keep track of time, there isn't any means by which to mark its passage. He doesn't possess a watch, and there's no clock in the room he's shut himself into – the same room where he and his best friend spent their final moment of togetherness. Since Twilight Town lacks a proper day-night cycle, the light streaming through the stained glass windows hasn't grown any brighter or dimmer throughout his stay. Therefore, it feels like the days all bled into one long, unending stretch.

Not that Roxas can bring himself to care. As far as he's concerned, only one thing matters:

_Remembering her._

Her—_Xion_. He cannot afford to forget her. Because memories of her is all he has left.

To that end, he's dedicated every waking moment to rereading his diary entries and the letter she's left for him. Said letter now bears deep crease marks from the countless times he's folded and unfolded it, to peruse contents he's long since memorised. Perhaps it's irrational, but he can't shake off a certain, lingering fear. What if he doesn't remind himself of her every second? Would his precious memories dissolve into nothingness – just like she had?

So he keeps reading, keeps reliving those beautiful, _painful_ memories until bags form under his eyes and his already unruly hair turns into an irredeemable mess. Every conscious effort to remember her is like burying a dagger into his most vulnerable spot and twisting the blade. His chest would constrict until he finds it impossible to breathe, and tears would burn down his face.

But there's a macabre satisfaction in it. For this pain he feels is _real_. It's tangible. It testifies to the impact she's made on him, the significance she's had in his short life. She had existed, he had loved her, and the proof of both facts is carved with agonising clarity into his heart.

Only when Naminé comes in for her routine check-in would Roxas be interrupted from his reminiscing. True to her promise to take care of him, she'd bring a tray of food and drink every time. While he would succumb to thirst, Roxas tends to leave the food untouched. Mustering the will to eat is beyond him. Answering Naminé's questions about his well-being – or anything, really – is also beyond him; rarely has she managed to coax more than a few tired monosyllables out of him.

One day, Naminé apparently decides that she's had enough. After the umpteenth time Roxas declines her instruction to eat, she sets the tray down on the table with an emphatic _clunk_.

"Roxas, she wouldn't want you to neglect yourself like this."

Uncurling from his fetal position on the couch, Roxas turns bleary eyes onto his host. Though frustration is clear in her reprimand, the only word he registers is 'she'. "Y-You remember _her_, then?" he garbles out, voice scratchy from disuse and too much crying. "Xion?"

"Yes, I remember Xion," Naminé says, looking gladdened by the simple fact of his reply. "I've drawn pictures of you and her and Axel together. Those are as much a physical reminder as that letter she left for you."

Roxas releases a breath he didn't realise he was holding. "Then I'm not the only one who remembers?"

"You're not the only one," she confirms. Then, more wistfully, she adds, "I would never want to disrespect her sacrifice by forgetting her."

Hearing that takes an indescribable weight off his shoulders. While Roxas would endure any hardship for Xion, it's a relief to know that he's not alone in bearing the burden of remembrance.

As he ruminates on this, Naminé reappears at his side with tray in hand. "Please, Roxas. _Eat_."

He doesn't protest when she deposits the tray in his lap. Under her unsmiling scrutiny, he picks up the fork and mechanically shoves food into his mouth. It tastes like ashes – he's not even sure of _what_ he's eating – but the act appeases her, so he keeps at it. He probably needs the nutrition; his Organisation coat is starting to hang loose on him.

In the end, Naminé exits the room with a half-cleaned plate and something like relief on her face. He eats a little more the next time 'round, and a little more after that. Although he has yet to express his thanks, he's immensely grateful for her ongoing care.

Her little pep-talk has given him the courage to let go, just a little. He knows now, with comforting certainty, that she's on his side. Even if she doesn't share his attachment to Xion and thus cannot understand the enormity of his loss, they are united in the desire to honour Xion's memory.

Bit by bit, the compulsion to re-read his diary and Xion's letter abates, becomes less overwhelming. It gives him just enough breathing space to set aside his grief and think about other important matters—

—like what the hell to do with himself.

His journey to find answers has effectively ended. Within the space of a day, all the missing pieces have fallen into place, completing the puzzle that is his identity and his connection to Sora. He's learned all he's ever wanted to know, and then some. But far from curing his restlessness, this only put him in a worse state than before.

Because he's lost everything that was important to him in the process.

His dear friends are gone. Xion is no more, having willingly given up her life for the greater good. And Axel would continue to betray him, trapped as he is under the mistaken impression that they're better off within the Organisation. _That's if he hasn't already been eliminated for failing his orders_, Roxas thinks despairingly.

And not only is Roxas without friends, but also without affiliation or purpose. Fighting is all he knows, and it's so utterly _pointless_. All this time, he's been beating up Heartless for a cause he never supported, a group he never belonged to. What good is wielding the mystical Keyblade if he would only be exploited for his abilities?

Yet Roxas is free. His freedom is hard-earned; he brute-forced his way out of the Organisation, and Xion paid the ultimate price to ensure his continued existence. It would be horribly remiss of him to squander this second chance. Why should he give up what he fought so hard for only to fade into obscurity?

By all rights, he should ignore the complication that is Sora and claim this life for himself. Let Riku come after him; what's another pursuer? He's already a fugitive. With his strength restored, he should be strong enough to fend off any opponent.

But what would he do next?

Maybe he could try to rebuild his life while on the run? Unfortunately for him, dark corridors are limited to places the user is familiar with, so hitching a portal off to nowhere isn't an option. He'd have to settle in a world he already knows – which means the Organisation knows it, too. It's far from ideal; he'd be constantly plagued with the fear of being hunted down and caught. With that looming over him, it wouldn't be easy to make new friends, let alone find a new place to call home.

Well, he could quash said fear by taking down the Organisation. How _gratifying_ would it be to storm headquarters, foil Xemnas' evil plans and deliver much-needed justice? But even as he revels in the idea, he knows it's overambitious – s_uicidal_, even. After Saïx's defeat, they wouldn't be stupid enough to challenge him alone, which leaves him outnumbered seven-to-one. Against such odds, he'd be destroyed for sure. Or worse yet, recaptured and enslaved. Then he'd be back to square one: being the Organisation's pawn once more.

Not an acceptable outcome.

Underpinning all this is a certain moral dilemma. As much as Roxas deserves a shot at life, is it really _okay _to live at Sora's expense? Naminé mentioned that Sora carries great responsibility. If Roxas isn't capable of filling his shoes, can he really just toss aside that fact and run away?

_But I'm _not_ Sora!_ he snarls in silent defiance. _His responsibilities are _his_, not mine!_

It's funny how desperately he once sought to uncover his past, only to want no part of it in the end. But can he ignore all of his previous self's obligations, whatever they are, just to rewrite his own blank slate? Can he leave all of Sora's friends and allies and loved ones without closure, endlessly waiting for his return?

Leave _Kairi_ waiting?

_That_ gives him pause. There's nobody besides Roxas who has a more intimate understanding of how important Kairi is to Sora. Briefly, he entertains the idea of visiting her and telling her everything. Isn't she owed the truth, at the very least?

But he doubts their encounter would go well. There's no way to know how (poorly) she'd react to someone who is and _isn't_ Sora. To have the one she loved stolen away, usurped by his incomplete, amnesiac copy. Not to mention that he'd take one look at her – the girl whose likeness he'd unconsciously stamped onto his _own_ beloved – and feel his heart break all over again.

No. He can't do that to _Kairi_, of all people. He can't give her his inferior Nobody self, when it's _Sora_ who ought to return to her. And if Kairi deserves Sora back, wouldn't this mean that everyone else does too? That's only fair, right?

It ends up becoming a contest of cosmic significance. Roxas is beholden to no one, whereas Sora has countless others who depend on him. To sum it up, Roxas would cause untold suffering through the simple, selfish act of holding onto his borrowed existence. With that knowledge weighing on him, would he be able to live with himself?

In the end, he's just as necessary a sacrifice as Xion was, isn't he? She'd gone through the same moral dilemma, and come out with the strength and conviction to do the right thing. Is Roxas just deluding himself with the illusion of choice, because he must ultimately follow in her footsteps?

All this injustice, just because he's _Sora's_ goddamn Nobody.

How he seethes with the urge to _defy it all_. Screw cosmic significance! He ought to flip everyone the proverbial middle finger and just walk away, walk his _own_ path. Though it would be fraught with difficulty, at least he'd have the satisfaction of choosing it for himself. He's entitled to a life as much as anybody else, dammit!

Yet what is freedom without any meaningful way to spend it? What is life without purpose, without friends, without anything to hold dear?

What would he even be living for?

_To prove to myself that I exist._

But is that enough? Can he subsist on such flimsy, abstract reasoning? What is it that he truly wants, in the deepest depths of his heart?

_I want… to be with my friends. I want to be with _Xion_. I want to do the right thing by her and make sure her sacrifice isn't in vain._

And just like that, the answer becomes obvious.

Xion's final resting place is inside Sora's heart. That's where Roxas will join her. He will finish what she started, by offering himself in unified sacrifice. This will fulfill her wish to give back to Sora his rightful memories, thus restoring his fragmented existence and many connections. Perhaps there aren't any other real options, but Roxas will take ownership of this choice.

He will go back to Sora – _of his own volition_.

Decision made, he rises from the couch and wanders over to the room's exit. The door opens and shuts behind him, marking his departure from his final place of respite.

A quick glance around the foyer reveals that nothing has changed since his last visit. Not even Riku had bothered switching up his haunt. The silver-haired teenager is leaning against that same winged unicorn stand as though he'd always been there, though logic dictates otherwise.

"Roxas," he calls out in a terse greeting.

"Riku," Roxas returns, equally terse.

"I was wondering when you'd leave that room," Riku continues, tilting his head. Roxas doesn't need to look behind that blindfold to know he's being scrutinised from head to toe. "You look awful."

Delivered with such offhandedness, that remark makes Roxas' hackles rise. The nerve of that guy, to criticise his appearance after the nightmare he's been through—! "What's it to you?" he spits.

But Riku doesn't seem to pay his mounting agitation any mind. "I remember… there were two of you. But the other – a girl, I think? – she must've already gone back to Sora." He raps his knuckles against his temple. "It's hard to remember even her name now."

"It's _Xion_, Riku," Roxas grits out, hands balling into fists at his sides. "Don't insult her memory."

"Xion…" Riku shakes his shaggy head, as if clearing the cobwebs in his mind. "Did Naminé's idea work, then?"

Unclenching his hands, Roxas exhales loudly through his nose. "Yeah, it did. I remember it all. I remember _everything_. No matter how much it hurts, I'll never forget."

This admission seems to take the older teenager aback. "Roxas, I'm so sor—"

"Don't," Roxas snaps, cutting him off. Not only would an apology from Riku be utterly _inadequate_, it's also the last thing he wants to hear right now. "Just… _don't_.

"Do you know how much it _hurts_ to lose someone who meant everything to you?" Bringing his palm up to his chest, he presses it against the ache that seems to have taken up permanent residence there. "This pain I feel… it's proof that she lived. I'll carry that for the rest of my life. Not that there's much of _that_ left now."

Riku's mouth goes slack in surprise. "Wait, are you saying—?"

"Yeah, I've made up my mind," Roxas confirms, not without spite. "I'll go back to Sora, just like you want. I'll give you your friend back. I won't let Xion's sacrifice be for nothing."

Then the crushing emptiness of Xion's absence hits him yet again, turning his words and manner forlorn. "She's there, isn't she? Inside Sora's heart. Will I see her?"

It's a rhetorical question meant to grant him some semblance of hope, but Riku denies him even that. "I… can't say. I don't want to hand out false promises."

Roxas cannot help but scoff. "No, you've done enough damage already."

Like before, Riku ignores his provocation. "Roxas, I've been thinking. I realise how unfair things are for you. You and her."

"What's your point, Riku?" The retort exits his mouth in automatic reflex, but it's more resigned than belligerent.

"I want to… offer you a favour."

This causes Roxas to shoot an incredulous stare at Riku's blindfold.

"Anything you ask, within reason," the older teenager continues. "I can't let you gallivant off, for example."

"Wasn't planning on that, anyway," Roxas sighs. "There's nowhere to go. And there's no point in going on." Then he narrows his eyes at Riku. "But why this? Why now?"

Discomfort is clear in the twist of Riku's features. "You and Xion remind me… of him and her."

"Sora and Kairi, you mean?" Roxas surmises.

The silver-haired teenager plucks at his sleeve, his discomfort becoming more pronounced. "Yeah. You're both so… _similar_."

This earns a bitter chuckle from Roxas. "Hits a bit too close to home, huh?"

Riku grunts an affirmative.

"Doesn't it make you feel _horrible_ inside?" Roxas sneers, his words laced with no small amount of vindictiveness. "Being able to see them in us? Like it's _them_ you're watching go through this hell while you just sit there and let it all happen."

Riku's lips are peeled back in a pained rictus. "Yeah, it does."

For some reason, getting that simple response drains all the animosity out of Roxas. "Better than nothing, I suppose," he mutters. Then an idea occurs to him – why not test the truth of Riku's generosity? "It just so happens that there _is_ something you _can_ do."

Something that isn't quite eagerness flickers across Riku's face. "What is it?"

Slipping his hand into his pocket, Roxas pulls out the book that contains so many of his precious memories. "Here's my diary." He hesitates for a moment, then fishes out the equally precious memento that his best friend left behind. "And a letter Xion wrote to me.

"Give this to Sora. I want him to remember us. I want him to know that we were living people once, with our own hopes and dreams. And hearts," he adds as an afterthought. "We sacrificed all of that, just so he can be whole again."

Riku receives the proffered items with surprising care, even reverence. He stows them away into his coat. "I'll make sure he gets this. You have my promise."

Though Roxas _hates_ having to say it to Riku – of all people – a word of gratitude would not be amiss here. "Thanks."

The older teenager nods, not the least bothered by his grudging manner. "Roxas," he says heavily, "Sora wouldn't be happy that things are like this. He'd want to meet you and Xion. Or more than that, probably – he'd want you two to be your own people. He'd look for another way."

"What's the point of telling me this?" Again, Roxas' retort contains more resignation than bite.

Riku scrubs his face with a weary hand. "What I'm trying to say is… Sora would _feel_ for you."

Despite himself, Roxas feels his lips quirk in an almost-smile. "That's a nice sentiment, not that it means anything now. If my Other was a jerk, I wouldn't have bothered with any of this." Then he tilts his head up and looks Riku in the eye – or blindfold, rather. "Just tell me one thing, Riku. What will you do once Sora wakes up?"

The other guy returns his stare evenly. "We'll stop whatever the Organisation's doing. We won't let them have Kingdom Hearts."

Satisfied, Roxas closes his eyes. "That's good enough for me." Then he blinks them open, realising that there's still one important piece of information he needs. "Well, I'm going to see Sora now. Do you know where—"

"Second floor, right side. And Roxas," Riku adds before Roxas can saunter off in the provided direction, "I want to thank you. Both you and Xion. I can't… express how grateful I am that you're doing this." The sincerity in his voice is raw, unmistakable, and it makes Roxas' insides churn with discomfort.

Unable to muster 'you're welcome' in reply, he asks instead, "You'll take care of Sora, won't you?"

Riku thumps his fist against his chest. "You can count on it."

"Alright then." Having exhausted the patience to continue their uncomfortable interaction, Roxas takes several steps forward, past the older teenager. "Goodbye, Riku."

"Goodbye, Roxas," he hears Riku's reply echo behind him.

Turning around to give the silver-haired teenager one last glance, Roxas resumes his march across the foyer, towards his next destination.

—

He finds himself in a library of sorts, with an open flight of stairs descending to the doorway below. To his lack of surprise, Naminé is already awaiting him here. After advising her of his decision, Roxas follows her lead down into the mansion's basement.

They pass by the control room, an arena-like space, and arrive at an interesting-looking corridor. Lining the left wall are glassy, teardrop-shaped pods, each large enough to house a person. Indeed, two of them contain occupants: a short, anthropomorphic duck and his taller canine counterpart, dressed in blue and green respectively.

Roxas recognises them straightaway. That's Donald, the ill-tempered court magician, and Goofy, the phlegmatic knight – his two most trusted companions. They've been on numerous adventures together, sharing lots of smiles and laughter amid arguments and tears. One thing is certain: he can always rely on them in a fight. How many times has he watched in awe as Donald razed the battlefield with his spells, or muttered his thanks as Goofy intercepted an attack meant for him? They even have their own victory salute: a team hi-five, accompanied by a cheerful cry of their motto:

_All for one and one for all!_

Unthinking, he rushes forward and braces his hands against the nearest occupied pod. "Donald?" He turns to look at its neighbour. "Goofy?"

But there's no response, only silence broken by the hum of running electronics. Donald and Goofy remain motionless within their glass prisons, eyes shut in repose.

Then realisation sinks in, and Roxas yanks himself away as though the contact scalded him. He knows them, but at the same time, he _doesn't_. For neither the magician nor the knight are Roxas' companions.

They're _Sora's_.

The lines between him and his Other are already blurring. Is this a taste of what it'll be like once they merge, where the personality known as 'Roxas' slowly fades into the background and gets replaced by 'Sora'?

Only when Naminé speaks up does he realise that he's been lost in thought.

"They've been put to sleep alongside Sora," she explains. "Their memories are also messed up, and I've been working hard to fix them, too."

Roxas gives himself a vigorous shake to bring himself back to the present. "Will they all wake up at the same time?"

Naminé nods. "If everything goes according to plan, yes."

"So they'll be together. It must be nice, having such good friends by your side."

Saying that leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Donald and Goofy have always stood by Sora. Even when he lost his Keyblade to Riku and in turn, their reason to accompany him, they returned to him anyway. No matter what the future holds, Sora can be certain of their continued loyalty and camaraderie.

And what does Roxas have? _Nothing_. But even as resentment bubbles hot and ugly inside his chest, it assures him that he's making the right decision.

They proceed to the next room, which is so devoid of feature and colour that it puts even Naminé's room to shame. Without any delineation between wall and ceiling, it may as well be an endless expanse of white. In the centre lies the room's lone piece of furniture: an oversized pod stationed above an elaborate base. If not for the shadow it cast against the floor, it would be indistinguishable from its surroundings.

As Roxas shifts his attention onto the pod, something inside him _reacts_. All of a sudden, he's filled with a strange yearning to get closer, like some inexplicable force is pulling him forward. As he puts one foot ahead of the other, the yearning gives way to a sense of _rightness_. It's as though his very instincts are telling him that this is the place where he belongs.

"Sora is sleeping in there," Naminé supplies unnecessarily, interrupting his reverie. Roxas swivels, finding her a step behind him.

"I know," he says, placing a hand over his chest and marvelling at the sensations within. "I can _feel_ him. It's like… he's calling me home."

"Xion said that, too." She gives him an encouraging look. "Joining him won't hurt, I promise."

It's more of a comfort than he can describe, knowing that Xion's final moments were not spent in fear or pain. "That's... nice to know."

"Well then," Naminé says, her tone wistful, "I guess this is where we say goodbye."

Roxas shakes his head, unwilling to let her go before expressing his gratitude. "Before that, I want to thank you. For taking care of me."

Melancholy is foremost in Naminé's expression. "It's the least I could do. I promised Xion, didn't I?" Then she fixes intent eyes upon his. "But it's really _you_ who deserves thanks, Roxas. I know how much making this choice has cost you."

For some reason, he finds himself much more receptive to Naminé's gratitude rather than Riku's. Maybe it's because he views Riku as the enemy, whereas Naminé is just the unlucky messenger. Or maybe it's because they're not very different from each other. He and she share an understanding that can only stem from the same fate, and _that's_ what makes her words genuine.

"Yeah," he sighs. "I just wish we'd known about all of this earlier. If only we'd met you back then."

"Would it honestly have changed anything?"

Roxas ponders her question for a moment. Knowing what he knows now, how would he alter the past? There are so many things beyond his control, like the fact that he and Xion are unable to coexist. Even if Naminé's offer of untangling them from Sora's memory was made available earlier, can it be carried out? The year-long timeframe itself would put them at terrible risk. More likely than not, the Organisation would catch wind of their plan and nip it in the bud.

If Naminé's offer is unfeasible, this leaves Roxas and Xion without any means of salvation. Their fate was sealed from the very beginning. As such, the only thing that foreknowledge might do is buy time for them to make peace with their inevitable sacrifice.

"No, I suppose not."

His answer must've sounded so dismal to Naminé that she feels compelled to cheer him up. "Roxas, please remember this isn't the end for us," she declares, folding earnest hands over her breast. "We will live on, and we will meet again. If not as ourselves, then as our respective Others."

"That's not any real consolation, y'know," Roxas points out.

Perhaps he's said that in too blunt a manner, for Naminé looks quite taken aback. "I'm sorry." With her downcast eyes and the way she's drawn her shoulders into herself, her resemblance to Xion is especially pronounced in that moment.

"It's not your fault," he quickly backpedals. "I guess there's just nothing that can be said to make it better."

Naminé expels a heavy breath. "You're right."

"It's okay, though," he reassures her, feeling the same compulsion to cheer her up just as she did before. "I still appreciate your effort."

This brings a smile to her lips, a faint and tremulous thing. He averts his gaze; it hurts to look at that too-familiar expression, those too-familiar indigo eyes.

Silence settles between them. Though their conversation might be brief, it has clearly run its course. After a moment, Roxas clears his throat.

"Well, I'd better get on with it. Until next time, Naminé."

"Until next time," she repeats, giving him a solemn nod, "Roxas."

He waves as she retreats, only setting his hand down when she vanishes through the door and out of sight. Now left with nothing but to face his end, Roxas remains in place for a moment, taking a deep, shaky breath to prepare himself. Then he lifts his head high, squares his shoulders and approaches the pod.

With a hiss of moving hydraulics, the pod unfurls, not unlike a blossoming flower. Suspended within it is a sleeping teenaged boy. His brown hair is wild and overgrown, in dire need of a trim. Despite his short and slender frame, the red jumpsuit he's sporting looks a few sizes too small for him.

Couldn't his caretakers be bothered to give him a change of clothes, at the very least? Has he been shut away in there this whole time, neglected, as he continued to sleep?

Knowing full well that he wouldn't receive any answers to those questions, Roxas lifts his gaze until it alights on the boy's too-familiar face. A face identical to his own.

"Sora," he calls out, his voice resonating across the chamber. "You're me, huh? Or the 'me' I was before. It feels like we're two completely different people, now."

There's no reply; not that he expects one.

"Will you remember us?" Roxas continues. "Me and Xion? Maybe you will. If your memories are anything to go by, you're a decent guy.

"I wanna _hate_ you," he proclaims, fuelled by a sudden surge of emotion, "but I can't. Not completely, anyway. You get to be a real person, while me and Xion are just your shells, your… _leftovers_. I definitely resent you for that."

Then the anger empties out of his voice, replaced by something worn and tired. "But I also know this is all out of your control, like it is for us. You didn't get to pick and choose. You just happened to get lucky."

Again, Roxas is greeted with silence. But there's a strange warmth emanating from Sora now, suffusing the air around him before settling deep inside his chest. It's comforting and familiar. It makes him think of the tropical ocean breeze – of _home_.

Maybe this rejoining thing won't be so bad, after all.

"Whatever. It looks like my days are over, and you're carrying on the torch. So… good luck. Make sure you kick the Organisation's butt for us, alright?"

He rests a hand against one of the pod's many petals. "That's enough from me. It's time to wake up, Sora."

Retrieving the thalassa shell from his pocket, Roxas brushes his thumb over its serrated surface. "Xion, I'll be with you soon."

He studies the shell for another moment, before tucking it away. Then he puts his right foot ahead of the other – his final step and final action. Light pours into the space between him and Sora, engulfing all of his senses until he knows nothing but _white_.

xxx

_Fin._

xxx

* * *

**A/N**: So we've finally come to the end of this story. Perhaps an alternative synopsis would be 'what if Xion manages to carry out her original plan of returning to Sora', but Roxas gets a little too entangled in affairs for that to accurately reflect the story's direction.

Before you ask, I have no intention of rewriting KH2 under these altered circumstances. Fundamentally, things would stay the same, though I imagine Sora would face down Org XIII with extra prejudice.

If Xion's data persisted in Vexen's research notes as mentioned in KH3, then by association other physical records of her would also persist, right? It seemed inconsistent that she would fade from Naminé's drawings (or Roxas' diary). Like a magic eraser had selectively scrubbed out all traces of Xion save Vexen's research notes so that the true Org XIII can revive her at their convenience.

Days was meant to be a self-contained story, with Xion both making her debut and fading from existence in the one instalment. I feel like Nomura had invented some convenient deus ex machina so that he can shoehorn her into the KH3 narrative, so I decided to flip it around in this story. Honestly though, I believe this is how Days should've ended. I despise the start of KH2 if only for the fact that Roxas' experience in the alternate Twilight Town is completely fabricated (extra cruelty points to DiZ, I guess) and doesn't feel genuine to me.

Thanks for reading. Please leave a comment, if you feel so inclined :-)


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